


Counterpoints

by pseudosmodingium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pianist Castiel (Supernatural), Polish Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 15:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19154251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudosmodingium/pseuds/pseudosmodingium
Summary: After receiving an indecent proposal from a stranger—one he can’t refuse in his current situation—, Dean finds himself caught up in a Green Card marriage with a pianist from Poland.Cas, on the other side, is looking down on the pieces of his career. Not only is his professional reputation in ruins, he is also about to get deported, forcing him out of the life he built for himself. In Dean, however, he finds new hope and maybe something more.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write a fake relationship fic and I'm glad it's finally done! All 34k words. It only took me forever.
> 
> I'll be posting weekly...ish. Additional warnings might be added at the beginning of the respective chapter.
> 
> Now, without further ado, I hope you'll enjoy your read! :)

_Fuck. Just…fuck._

Dean messed up big time and he’s got no-one but himself to blame. Of course he’s mad at Gordon for letting him down in this completely fucked situation but, if he’s being honest, he would probably do the same. He hasn’t paid his share of the rent in six weeks and now that he’s been fired, things are unlikely to change any time soon.

“Bartenders are supposed to break up fights, not start them,” Donnie said. Well, he’s not wrong. But that asshole would’ve picked up a fight either way—Dean just preempted him. He knows the look these guys have. He was already drunk when he entered the bar and immediately started searching the room in order to find trouble. Dean has seen this often enough with Dad when he got home in the early morning hours. The first person to look at him in a wrong way was screwed. And looking _wrong_ in this case merely meant existing.

Dean’s spinning the glass between his hands. He has barely touched his drink yet. It needs to last because he’s fucking broke and not even sure he’s got enough cash to pay for this one. He sighs.

“I hear you,” the guy taking the bar stool next to him says. He’s signaling the bartender to give him the same drink Dean has and she swiftly puts a glass in front of him and fills it with two fingers of whiskey.

“Cheers,” he says before downing half of it, keeping his face completely straight.

“Dude,” Dean mumbles, more to himself, because this stuff is strong.

“What?” the guy says.

“Nothing,” Dean says, “your day must’ve been as great as mine.”

“My day wasn’t great at all,” he replies and Dean isn’t sure whether or not he’s messing with him.

“No, I meant…never mind. Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” the guy says and takes another sip.

“Oh, okay, well…whatever,” Dean says and drinks as well.

The guy finishes his drink and waves at the bartender for another round. Dean stares down at his glass. He could use one more too but he doesn’t even know what he’s gonna eat for breakfast tomorrow, so he restrains himself from ordering a second glass.

“You’re a slow drinker,” the guy detects after a while and he’s obviously drunk because his pronunciation is getting off the rails already.

“Well, I’m usually not but I’m broke as hell, so…”

The guy shakes his head. “’scuse me,” he speaks up when he doesn’t get the bartender’s attention. “Another round for the both of us.”

“You really didn’t have to,” Dean says as the bartender is refilling their glasses.

“I know,” the guy says.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asks before drinking. “I’m Dean.”

“Cas,” the guy says. “Cheers, Dean.”

“Cheers, and thanks for the drink, Cas.”

After this, they’re silent again. Cas doesn’t seem to be much of a talker.

“I got fired today,” Dean says after a while. He doesn’t care if Cas wants to hear it or not, he doesn’t have anyone else to confess his failure to.

Cas huffs. “I did too, some time ago,” he says.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. At least you don’t appear to worry about money.”

“Not yet, no.”

“I also got kicked out by my roommate today.”

“That sucks,” Cas agrees, in a rather nonchalant way though, and Dean feels like he’s fishing for empathy in an empty pond.

Dean clears his throat before speaking. “Well, anyway, thanks for the drink, man. Guess I’m leaving, trying to figure out what to do with my life from tomorrow on.”

“I’m also about to get kicked out,” Cas says then to Dean’s surprise.

“Oh,” Dean breathes out and sinks back onto his stool.

“Also by your roommate?” Dean asks, although he’s certain that’s not the answer. “Your spouse?” he adds before Cas can respond but immediately notes the lack of a ring.

“The government,” Cas says eventually.

“What, really? How so?”

“I’m getting deported because I was stupid enough to lose my job before I could obtain a Green Card.”

“Well, shit. But, if I can ask you one thing, where are you getting deported to? Canada? You don’t sound Canadian.”

“That is because I am not.”

“Then where’re you from?”

“Poland,” Cas says.

“Oh, well… There’re worse countries to get deported to, I guess.”

“There are. But I’ve always wanted to live in America. I belong here.”

“I feel you…couldn’t imagine living anywhere else either. I mean, not everything’s perfect but what place is, huh?”

“There’s nobody waiting for me back in Poland. My whole life is here.”

Dean kinda gets what Cas is talking about. There isn’t really anyone waiting for him back home either. Dad is probably glad he’s gone and Sammy is living his own life in California.

“Man, fuck, I wish I could help you. Isn’t there a place where I could put in a good word for you?”

Cas doesn’t respond right away. Instead he’s ripping a napkin into tiny pieces.

“There _is_ a way you could help me,” he says eventually, “a way we could help each other.”

He gets onto his feet and closer to Dean so that only he could possibly hear him. “You could marry me, Dean, become my fake husband for a while until things have calmed down. You will find a new job in the meantime and become independent from my money and eventually we will divorce again.”

Dean stares at him for second, waiting for Cas to break and laugh about his own joke. He doesn’t.

“You’re kidding, right?” Dean says.

Cas withstands his gaze, not blinking once. “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life,” he says.

“Cas,” Dean wheezes, looking around to make sure no-one’s listening. “Are you insane? That’s fucking illegal!”

“You know what else is fucking illegal?” Cas says, heated, but in a low enough voice. “That I am half American and not allowed to live here.”

“What are you talking about, Cas?”

“My father was American. He was born right here, in Kansas City, and spent most of his life here when he wasn’t travelling for work. I grew up bilingual. The only thing that keeps me from staying here is the fact that he was a fucking asshole who wouldn’t even profess to the woman who blessed him with a son and marry my mother.”

“So, you can’t become a legal citizen because your American father wasn’t married to your non-American mother?”

Cas gives him an affirmative nod.

“That’s pretty messed up.”

“It wouldn’t cost you much, Dean. Just sign a few forms and pretend to be head over heels for me for a while. You would live at my place for free. I have enough space. You would even have your own room and bathroom. Obviously, you cannot have any amorous relations as long as we’re keeping up this sham but, like everything about this, it’s only temporary.”

“I don’t know. I could end up in prison and you would get deported anyway.”

“Not if we’re doing it right. Or is there currently someone you’re—”

“No, absolutely not. I’m single and ready to…” Dean isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol or Cas’s begging blue eyes that make him weak in his knees.

“Alright, what’s the plan?”

 

Dean parks his Impala the next morning at the curb in front of a tall building. If there have been any doubts left after sobering up, they’ve completely disappeared now that he’s spent the night in his car. Every bone in his body aches and he can’t wait to try out Cas’s guestroom bed.

He gave Dean his address last night before they parted and agreed to meet up here before getting serious. Cas’s apartment is on the twenty-first floor and this entire place is definitely an upgrade from the dump he shared with Gordon for the past few months. There are trees outside and a park nearby that doesn’t look too dangerous to walk through at night and there’s also an underground garage which Dean hopes to use as soon as he’s moved in.

“Dean,” Cas says when he opens the door, like he’s surprised he actually came. He looks good in daylight. “Come in, please.”

Cas guides him to the main room. It’s an open plan apartment, sunlight flooding the space through the windows that range from floor to ceiling. There’s a sitting area with a large gray sofa and a glass table. A grand piano occupies one corner of the room. The built-in bookcase is so overstuffed that piles have formed in front of them. There’s also an expensive looking sound system which Dean intends to check out as soon as the opportunity arises.

“Wow,” Dean says after dropping his duffel bag onto the floor and steps closer to the window slash outside wall. “We’re really high up. How much rent do you pay for this?”

“I don’t,” Cas says, picking up Dean’s bag and putting it on the sofa. “I own it.”

Dean spins around. “Really? How come you can’t just buy yourself a Green Card?” He adds a laugh to his question.

“My father left the apartment to me when he died,” Cas says.

“Oh… Well, the estate tax must’ve been a bitch then.”

“It was,” Cas confirms. “But it was worth the trouble, so I thought, until I received the letter that told me to fuck off. They gladly took my money but won’t keep me.”

“God bless America,” Dean says in a sarcastic tone.

“I’ll show you your room,” Cas says then and follows him, grabbing his bag on the way.

There’s a queen size bed, the entire space kept in a warm gray tone, pastel blue and white. All very clean but not uninviting.

“And the en suite bathroom,” Cas says, exposing dark gray tiles behind the door.

“Awesome,” Dean says with a big smile on his face. He’s never had this kind of luxury in his life.

Cas gives him a minute to marvel but then he says, “We should get down to business now.”

“Coming,” Dean murmurs, still astonished, when Cas leaves the room. He tosses his duffel bag on the bed and follows suit.

“Now,” Cas says as he sits at the glass dining table in the main room and opens a folder. “We have an appointment at the courthouse early this afternoon and we’ve still got a lot of work ahead of us. I already had my papers translated a while ago so we won’t lose time on that. I’d say we start with the basics.”

Dean has barely sat down when Cas hands him a notepad and a pen.

“I’ll start,” Cas says. “Make sure to remember the things I’m telling you.”

“Cas,” Dean says, “slow down a bit. What exactly are we doing?”

“Getting to know each other.” Cas’s face and tone add a ‘silly you’ to what he’s actually said. “We want to make the impression that we’ve known each other for much longer than one night and that we’ve had time to learn everything about each other and fall in love.”

“Oh, okay…but, Cas, I don’t think writing down facts will make this very convincing. Why don’t we just talk, you know, like we would do if this were real?”

“Dean, we don’t have time—”

“So, my name is Dean Winchester, my birthday is January 24th which makes me an Aquarius.”

“I don’t believe in astrology,” Cas interjects but Dean scolds him.

“Shh, you’re supposed to listen. I was born in Lawrence, Kansas, but I grew up in Lebanon, also Kansas. I have a younger brother named Sam who recently moved to California with a full scholarship to Stanford University, so you can imagine how proud I am. I love classic rock and classic cars and pie.”

Cas stares at him.

“Now you,” Dean says.

After a brief moment of hesitance, Cas says, “I was born in Krakow, Poland. My mother taught classical piano at the Academy of Music there. That’s where she met my father, world-famous pianist Charles Shurley, who was asked to teach there for a semester shortly after the fall of the Berlin Wall. He extended his stay to a year after starting a relationship with my mother and by the end of the fall semester, she was pregnant. He left anyway, only returned for occasional visits to see how his son was developing, if he was good enough at the piano already to sign him up for international competition. He died last year, left me this apartment and I took the opportunity and moved here.”

“You still play?” Dean says, glancing at the grand piano in the far end of the room.

“I wasn’t done with my story,” Cas says with a frown. “I came to study at the Academy, also spent a semester here in the U.S. at Julliard. I’ve lived in different countries across Europe and played concerts all over the world. My mother died when I was nineteen and when my father died I knew this was where I was supposed to end up all along.”

“And you’re in your twenties?”

“I could have achieved much more by now.”

“Cas, this is… I mean, wow. That’s a lot to take in.”

“I’ve only talked for about five minutes. Not too much to memorize for you, I hope.”

Was this an insult? “No, Cas, that’s not what I’m saying. I just…you’ve gotten around, is all.”

“What about your parents?” Cas asks instead.

“Well, my mom died, too. And my dad, after she was gone, he tried…at least that’s what I’m telling myself. I mean, Sammy turned out just fine.”

“And you?”

“Uh, you know, I’m broke and homeless which is why I’m getting married to some Polish guy as a fraud.”

“I hope you’ll have a better answer if we’re being questioned by the authorities.”

“What is this—a test?”

“You better prepare for one.”

“Are you being serious?”

“You said it yourself last night: this scheme could earn you a prison sentence if we’re not careful.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “I’m not scared if that’s what you’re suggesting. Are you?”

“I’m only scared of being deported,” Cas says. “Do we have a deal?”

Dean purses his lips. “Yes,” he says and they shake hands.

They talk for two hours over coffee, Dean trying and failing to teach Cas (which is short for Castiel, as he’s learned by now) about rock music and Cas, in return, lecturing him about classical composers.

“Would you play something?” Dean asks then.

“Not now, Dean. We need to leave soon and buy the rings.”

“The rings?” Oh, the rings. Right. For the wedding.

“Do you have a suit?”

“No?”

“You can borrow one of mine then. Come on. One will surely fit you.”

Dean runs after him and follows Cas into the master bedroom which, obviously, has a much bigger closet than his. “Try this one,” Cas says and hands him a black jacket.

A few pieces later, Dean has found a navy jacket and pants that fit him but he can convince Cas to leave the tie. “It’s only a courthouse wedding after all.”

He goes back outside into the living room, waiting for Cas to change into festive attire as well and curiously walks up to the piano. He sits on the bench and opens the lid. A girl at a pub once taught him how to play _Smoke on the Water_ and he wonders if he still remembers how it goes. He presses the first key and it’s very clearly wrong. _Much too high_ , he thinks and lets his hand wander further to the left side of the keyboard. _Better._

Dean laughs as the melody forms under his fingers and sings along to the tune. “Duh, duh, duhhh. Duh, duh, duhdu—hey!” With a bang the room goes silent. “You almost chopped off my fingers with this thing,” Dean complains to Cas who just slammed the lid shut. He looks angry.

“Would’ve taught you a lesson,” he says.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Do. Not. Touch. The. Piano. Understood?”

Dean gulps. “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

“This instrument isn’t a toy. I need it to work. I practice six to eight hours a day. But don’t worry, the walls are thick and you will barely hear anything in your room. However, you do not touch it. If you want to learn how to play, get a tutor.”

Dean breathes out as he thinks of a response but Cas forestalls him and says, “Come on now, we’ve got to get the rings on our way downtown.”

 

“Complete these forms, make sure to fill them out properly and truthfully. When you’re done, you hand them back to me and after making a payment of fifty dollars you will be issued a marriage license,” the woman at the registration desk tells them. The name tag in front of her reads _M. Moseley._

The ring purchase was a quick undertaking and now they’re here, at the Jackson County Courthouse and Dean can’t believe he’s actually getting married to a stranger. He doesn’t know how long this has to last for neither of them to get into trouble but one thing he is certain about: his family can never know. Not even Sammy. Especially not Sammy, the aspiring law school student.

“It’s Nowak, spelled with a w?” Dean notes, glancing over at Cas’s form. “Doesn’t the poster in your hallway say Cas Novak with a v?”

“Shut your mouth,” Cas hisses. “You don’t want this to fail right from the start, do you?”

“It was just a question, calm down, man.”

“As my fiancé, you are, of course, aware that I spell it with a v for my stage name because it looks more international. Just as I shorten my first name to Cas.”

“Got it. But you could’ve warned me, just saying.”

Cas rolls his eyes, lets out a sigh, and continues to fill the blank spaces on his form.

After handing the sheets of paper back to Mrs. Moseley, Dean holds his breath for what feels like an eternity because her face darkens as she goes through everything. She takes a note but Dean can’t see over the counter what she’s writing. He looks at Cas and he looks tense as well although he’s clearly trying to play it cool.

“Alright,” she says then and Dean feels dizzy from not taking a breath for so long.

The next few hours go by like a dream. Two city employees are witness to the brief ceremony, they exchange the rings Cas bought on the way here and everything ends with the kiss they agreed on in order to make it convincing and one of their witnesses takes a photo with Cas’s phone. Dean barely even remembers the kiss afterwards but they have a picture to prove it really happened.

“I’m not gonna carry you over the threshold, if that’s what you’re hoping for,” Dean says on their way to his car.

“I’m quite certain that you’re not strong enough to do this anyway,” Cas says.

“Well, I disagree, but anyhow, what are we gonna do now? To be honest, I’m starving. Can I take you out for an early wedding dinner?”

“Do you have the money to pay for it?”

Dean flinches a little. “It was only an idea. We just got married after all.”

“And nothing’s real about our marriage, except for the paperwork,” Cas says, staring out the windshield.

They don’t talk for the rest of the ride to Cas’s apartment…their apartment now, he supposes.

“I’m ordering pizza,” Cas says as soon as they’ve walked through the door—and no, nobody carried anyone. He tosses Dean a menu to pick from and heads for his bedroom, slipping out of his jacket. When Dean has settled for a topping, Cas has already changed into sweatpants and a T-shirt.

“This should cover everything, including the tip,” Cas says and hands him a few bills. “I’ll work until our food has arrived.” He leaves Dean, still in his wedding suit, standing in the hallway and walks into the living room. Dean follows him, cautiously. Cas opens the cover, sets the rack upright and lifts the lid that covers the keyboard. He sits on the bench and, slowly, in an almost ceremonial manner, his hands descend onto the keys.

To Dean’s disappointment, though, he doesn’t start with some awesome concerto or whatever but with what appears to be warm-up exercises for pianists. It’s still fascinating, though. Then, Cas stops abruptly.

“Dean,” he says, without turning around, “could you please go to your room. I need to concentrate.”

Dean almost falls over his feet as he gets moving. “Yeah, sure, sorry.”

So he isn’t allowed outside his room when Cas is playing. Great. Though, still better than the backseat of his car.


	2. Chapter 2

“Cas-ti-el, my dear friend, would you bother telling me what on earth this is?” Balthazar says, lifting Cas’s left hand.

“Oh, that,” he says. He meant to take it off before coming here to avoid questions but he wouldn’t have been able to hide Dean anyway. Not if he wants his plan to work out. “It’s a wedding ring.”

“Aye, right,” Rowena says in disbelief.

“You’re serious,” Balthazar realizes after a moment.

“I am,” Cas says, absently stirring his coffee.

“Well, what’re waiting for? Tell us everything. When, how and, most importantly, who?” Balthazar presses, leaning his elbows on the table to get closer.

Cas played through this conversation a hundred times in his head over the past few days. He didn’t come here unprepared, of course not.

“His name is Dean,” he starts, “we met a few months ago after he moved to KC.”

“And you didn’t think of introducing him to us, not even once?” Balthazar asks. He sounds pretty pissed but that’s his problem.

“You know I’m a very private person,” Cas says. “And things went so well with Dean, I didn’t want to jinx it. I’ve never met anyone like him before.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Rowena asks.

“ _Tell me more, tell me more,_ ” Balthazar throws in in a sing-song.

“I guess, you can say it was. We met at a bar and we started talking, I bought him a drink and I knew right away that he’s the one—he’s the one I’m going to marry.”

“Sounds like a fairy tale,” Balthazar says, dreamy.

“Cas, I never knew you were a romantic kind of person,” Rowena says. “You’re always so serious and straightforward. I like that about you.”

“Rowena, our ice prince has found another prince to thaw his frozen heart.”

“Balthazar, I can hear you,” Cas reminds him.

“Cas, no offence, but we all know your problem is that it’s hard for you to show emotion.”

“That’s not true,” he insists. “You sound like Marv.”

“Well, maybe Marv was right.” Cas glares at him. “A little bit, at least.”

“Do you really agree with the guy who cancelled my contract?” _And almost got me deported._

Balthazar purses his lips and looks away.

“What about you?” he asks Rowena when he notices that she’s suspiciously silent and far too interested in her tea cup.

“I can’t believe I’m calling you my best friends.”

“You didn’t even tell us about your wedding!” Balthazar counters. “Let alone invite us.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Cas says. “We eloped. There weren’t any guests.”

“When are we going to meet him then, your husband?” Rowena asks.

“Soon,” Cas promises.

After their coffee break, he and Balthazar go back to the ballet studio. Balthazar has arranged for him to provide piano accompaniment for his dancers. Cas does it because he wants to work, even though this is a low point for his career. He has played sold out concert halls and now this.

“No no no, from the beginning, please,” Balthazar says after watching his company prepare a new choreography. He’s known for his perfectionism and high expectations. Cas is no different when it comes to music but right now, the main event is taking place on the dance floor, not the keyboard.

“You should come over for dinner this Friday,” Balthazar says when his dancers have been dismissed. “We should all get to know your new husband.”

“Balt, no. You can’t expect me to show Dean around like a piece of meat.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be just us. You, me, Rowena and Dean. And maybe two or three more people.”

“Balt!”

“Relax, Cassie, please. I won’t make this awkward for anyone, I promise.”

Cas has known Balthazar for too long to believe that any of this is true.

“Please,” he begs, “just let me have this. You gotta make up for not inviting me to the wedding.”

“Alright, fine. When is this supposed to start?”

“I was thinking seven-ish. And bring some wine,” Balthazar says and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “Looking forward to meeting your lawfully wedded husband!”

 

Dean has been staring at the silver wedding band on his finger for days. It still feels kinda unreal. He never actually thought of getting married. He’s never had a relationship serious enough to even imagine something like this. His parents’ marriage might have been his ideal when it came to this. At least what he can remember of it. He was eight years old when Mom died. But until then life was it was supposed to be. A house, white picket fence, Mom and Dad and two kids and eventually the dog Sam always wanted if things hadn’t turned out differently.

Two days after the wedding, Dean went back to Donnie’s bar and to ask to get his job back. He doesn’t want to depend on his fake husband after all and what else is he supposed to do with his days. He can’t just sit in the apartment all day long and do nothing.

Unsurprisingly, though, Donnie told him to fuck off or he would call the cops on him. Yeah, so much for that.

Dean asked around at other nearby places if they had any vacancies but he wasn’t lucky. So, despite his efforts, he has been housebound for almost a week and Cas doesn’t even have a Netflix account.

Dean went through his books but didn’t really find anything that piqued his interest. There are a lot of biographies about famous composers and contemporary musicians and more music history than anyone could ever read, some in English and some in Polish, and tons of sheet music.

Cas’s CD collection also gravely lacks variety. Symphonies, piano concertos, organ music, church music of the Middle Ages, contemporary church music—seriously, who would want to listen to that other than a complete bore?

His husband is wealthy, yes, but would it have been too much to ask to marry someone he has got at least a few things in common with? Fake or not, they still have to live together.

Nevertheless, Dean has the means to help himself out. He took his most precious CDs with him when he left home, though foolishly leaving behind his beloved vinyl collection. He thought he wouldn’t have the devices to play them here anyway. And now look at this. This audio equipment probably cost more than he’s ever earned in a year.

He rushes to his room, opens the closet and kneels down to the box with his music, searching and thinking what he’s in the mood for right now. Quickly, he picks one and when the first notes of Black Sabbath fill the ridiculously large living space, the bass thrumming through his veins, he feels alive. He dances around the room, jumps, lands with his back on the sofa, kicks his feet into the air.

“ _Yeah, yeah, yeah!”_ He plays air guitar, air drums, all the instruments. He sits by the piano, lid remaining closed, and hammers his fingers onto the wood.

Then the music stops abruptly, Dean loses his balance and falls off the bench. Well, at least there’s carpet on the floor.

“If you’re taking this much interest in Hell and everything Satanic, I’d recommend Liszt’s _Dante Symphony,_ ” Cas says, standing by the CD player.

“Hey,” Dean says, still on the floor, “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“To the surprise of absolutely no-one,” Cas says, walking closer and Dean reaches out one arm, waiting for Cas to help him get up. Instead, he inspects the piano, lifting the lid for a moment and then he turns to Dean, towering over him. “I’m going to take a shower. I expect the fingerprints on the varnish to be gone when I get out.”

Dean watches him leave before he finally gets up. Great, now he isn’t even allowed to listen to his music anymore. After a minute he finds a kitchen towel and tries his best to polish the shiny black lacquer. He doesn’t want to disgruntle his husband after all.

“I’m ordering Chinese,” Cas says when he comes back, dressed in sweatpants and a lose-fit shirt, hair still wet.

“You know, we don’t have to order take-out every day,” Dean says, “I can cook.” So far Dean hasn’t dared to touch anything in their spotless, high-end kitchen other than the fridge and the tap.

“Thanks, but if I wanted to eat ramen or canned soup every day, I could do the cooking myself,” Cas dismisses his offer.

“No, really,” Dean insists, “I can actually make a real meal from scratch. I did it all the time when I still lived with Dad and Sammy. I doubt my little brother would’ve become taller than me on frozen pizza and microwaved food alone.”

“Dean, I’m grateful that you married me but I don’t expect you to play house in order to please me. I depend on you as much as the other way around.”

“I want to,” Dean says. “I just… I may need some cash to go grocery shopping tomorrow but then, I promise, you’ll get a delicious home-cooked dinner.”

Cas stares down at the kitchen counter for a moment. Then he goes to get his wallet from the sideboard in the hallway and takes out a few bills, puts them back inside and fishes out a credit card instead.

“While you’re at it,” he says, “maybe also buy some new clothing to make you presentable.”

“You’re giving me your credit card?”

“Didn’t you listen to me? I want you to get some nice clothes so I can introduce you to my friends on Friday.”

“Friends?” Up until now Dean wasn’t even sure Cas had any friends. He remembers Cas mentioning them at one point but Dean assumed they were like work colleagues or so.

“We’re having dinner at Balthazar’s this Friday. Maybe try to find something that isn’t jeans with holes in them or flannel.”

“You’re seriously sending me shopping with your credit card,” Dean breathes out once more, still in a state of disbelief.

“Don’t go too wild, though,” Cas says, “I know where you live.”

Dean chuckles. Maybe Cas does have some kind of humor.

“So, this dinner at your friend’s place…”

 

Dean is wearing a white shirt and a maroon sport coat with black jeans and a pair of comfortable leather shoes, black as well, to round up the ensemble. Despite his initial distrust, Cas was satisfied with the items he purchased. The fact that his wardrobe used to lack these kinds of things doesn’t mean Dean lacks a sense for fashion.

“Presentable enough?” Dean asks when he leaves his room to find Cas impatiently waiting in the hallway.

After a shaky inhale that Dean doesn’t really know what to make of, bracing himself for another round of criticism, Cas slightly shakes his head and says, “That’ll do. Now hurry up, I don’t want us to be late.”

A flamboyant British guy opens the door for them when they’ve arrived at Balthazar’s place. “Cas, darling! Please come in you two, we all can’t wait to meet the husband.”

They follow Balthazar into the apartment that does in no way stand behind Cas’s in neither size nor grandeur. It’s much more colorful in here, though. A lot of pictures on the wall, photographs of half-naked dancers, the lighting emphasizing the muscles all over their bodies. Cas has told him that Balthazar leads the Kansas City ballet company and Dean wonders how two people who appear to be polar opposites became close friends.

There are quite a lot of people here, standing together in small groups and chatting.

“Well, you must be Dean, the man we’ve been hearing about,” Balthazar says, handing him and Cas glasses of red wine.

“That’s me, yes,” Dean says, sniffing at the dark liquid in his glass which causes him to wrinkle his nose.

“Oh, I’m sorry, love,” Balthazar says, “would you’ve liked something else to drink?”

Dean looks at Cas. He doesn’t want to be rude but he also really wants to have another beverage. Gladly, Cas gives him a slight nod and says, “Dean is more of a beer guy, Balt.”

“You want beer?” Balthazar asks to make sure.

“If you have some, beer would be great,” Dean says and with a loud ‘of course, dear’ and an excuse for not asking beforehand, Balthazar retrieves a bottle from the fridge behind him and removes the cap for him.

Dean notices a woman with fiery red hair coming up to join them at the kitchen isle.

“Castiel, there you are,” she says. She’s having some kind of accent and her delicate body is clothed in chic cream pants and a rosé top.

After kissing Cas’s cheeks three times, she turns to Dean and holds out a freckly alabaster arm to him.

“Cas,” she says, “won’t you introduce me to this lovely man of yours?”

“Of course,” Cas says. “Rowena, this is Dean Winchester, my husband. Dean, this is my good friend Rowena. She’s the harpist of KC Symphony.”

“Oh, so you didn’t take Castiel’s name? Cas, say, are you a Winchester now? What a lovely name that is.”

Cas shakes his head and smirks. “I’m afraid I have to disappoint you, Rowena. We’ve both kept our last names.”

“Well, anyway,” Dean finally speaks up, “it’s very nice to meet you, Rowena. You too, Balthazar.”

“Dean,” Balthazar says, “tells us something about yourself. We could barely get anything out of your husband. What do you do?”

“Oh, uh, I’m a bartender. I mean I was until recently. I’m kinda trying to figure out right now where I want my career to be going.” He feels like they’re all staring him down all of a sudden. His face feels hot and he quickly takes a drink from the cool beer that’s still been sitting untouched in front of him.

“Oh, and what were you thinking of?” Balthazar asks. He sounds genuinely interested, though. However, Dean doesn’t really have an answer to that.

“Um, I don’t exactly know yet.”

“Oh, imagine being this young again and having the world before you, wondering what’s about to come,” Rowena says.

“How old are you anyway, if you don’t mind the question?” Balthazar asks.

“I just turned twenty-three in January,” Dean says.

“Castiel,” Balthazar utters, “he’s so young!”

“A wee boy,” Rowena agrees.

“I think you’re forgetting that Cas isn’t so much older than me,” Dean says.

“Yes, dear,” Balthazar says and lays a hand on his arm, “we know. Oh, young love…so beautiful.”

“Honestly, though,” Rowena says then, “I’m surprised he isn’t another musician. Or do you play any instruments, Dean?”

“Not really. But I took a few guitar lessons when I was in high school.”

“Well, maybe Cas will teach you a thing or two on the piano, right Cas?”

 _Sure, if he ever lets me touch it,_ Dean thinks.

“Maybe,” Cas says and sips at his wine.

A few questions later, they’re allowed to mingle with the other guests, though Cas appears to rather stick to Rowena and Dean is glad that he’s getting to have some time on his own here. Most people around seem to be either dancers or musicians but fortunately not everyone’s as uptight as Cas. He was sincerely worried that everybody here would be like him, not getting any of his jokes and thinking they’re something better just because they went to music school and know shit about Mozart or Beethoven.

One of the guys, Alfie, for instance, he’s about Dean’s age and new to the KC ballet, seems to have a very broad taste in music and so they end up talking about Metallica and Dean tells him the story of how he sneaked out on a school night because his buddy Victor had received tickets from his cousin and drove three hours to see them live. All Hell broke loose when Dad caught him coming home at 4 a.m. the next morning but the experience was totally worth it.

After Alfie has excused himself to get another drink, another redhead comes to stand beside him. “I haven’t seen you around,” she says.

“That’s because I’m the new guy, I guess,” Dean says.

“Josie Sands,” she says and offers him her hand.

“Dean Winchester. Are you a dancer or a musician?”

“I’m a singer,” she says.

“Oh, like in a band or—”

Josie laughs. “Well, I had a brief career in my boyfriend’s punk band when I was a teenager,” she says. “I mostly perform classical pieces now but I’m not picky about what I sing in the shower.”

Now it’s Dean’s turn to let out a laugh. “I bet you’re great at karaoke,” he says then.

“Oh, I really kill it at SingStar,” she says and Dean realizes she’s moved really, really close.

“So, how do you know Balthazar?”

“Actually, I don’t. I just met him tonight.”

“He’s with me,” Cas, having appeared out of nowhere, interjects.

“Oh,” Josie says, “Castiel, aren’t you known for being notoriously single?”

“Not anymore,” Cas says, “we’re married,” and holds up his and Dean’s hand to show them the proof that sits on their fingers.

“Please, excuse us. Dean and I need to talk in private.” He takes Dean’s hand and drags him outside onto the balcony.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Cas snaps at him as soon as the door’s closed behind them.

“I was just having a conversation. Am I not allowed to talk to people?”

“You were flirting!”

“No, I wasn’t. It was just some innocent banter.”

“Call it what you want. The point is that you can’t do this. We had a deal, remember? No romantic or sexual relations with anyone. Do you think you could keep it in your pants?”

“I was just talking!” Dean barks back.

 

Cas realizes that Dean is having the upper hand in their relationship and he doesn’t like it. He needs to talk some sense into him or they’re both screwed.

He didn’t properly think this through before they got serious with his plan. Now he’s got this stranger living with him, taking advantage of his money and probably intending to blackmail him.

“I could just leave the country of my own free will. It’s not like I’d end up a political prisoner back in Poland. I’d just wait a few months and come back here. I’ll figure something out. But you…you’d be homeless. Penniless. You’d have to go back to Kansas and admit that you’ve failed. Do you want that?”

Dean’s pupils widen with shock. Cas apparently hit a nerve there.

“Cas, what are you saying? I swear, I didn’t do anything and I wouldn’t have. I just liked the attention, okay. I’m not into that woman.”

“Good,” Cas says and turns around, ready to go back inside.

“One question, though,” Dean says then and Cas looks at him over his shoulder. “You aren’t jealous, are you? Because let me remind you that this,” he says, letting his pointer finger alternate between them, “this isn’t real.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cas snorts and leaves the balcony.

Dean, though, appears to have learned his lesson and stays by his side for the rest of the evening and makes small talk with Balthazar over dinner. During their ride home, he thinks they did well acting as a couple on their first night out being official. Dean doesn’t talk and Cas is glad to have some quiet time to process.

Weeks pass with Dean posing as his househusband, cooking him dinner every night. Dean convinced him to pay for a ‘Netflix’ and he supposes that’s what he’s been doing all day when Cas wasn’t home.

One day, when he’s taking a break from practicing to make tea, he remembers that he isn’t alone in this apartment and politely knocks on Dean’s door.

“I’m making tea,” he says, “would you like some?”

Dean sits on his bed, reading. It’s none of Cas’s books as far as he can tell.

“Sure,” Dean says, lays the book to the side and gets up.

They wordlessly sip the hot tea at the kitchen counter later until Cas breaks the silence by asking, “What is it that you do all day when I’m working?”

Dean looks up from his cup. “You don’t wanna know,” he says.

Cas rolls his eyes. “I know you’re playing your music when I’m gone and feel free to do so. You’re not my prisoner. What I meant was, do you go out from time to time, meet people, maybe try to get a job?”

“Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I have tried. Nobody wants me, though. I don’t exactly have much to offer. Every shit job out there requires a college degree.”

“Then do it, go to college. What keeps you from at least trying?”

“I can’t,” Dean says, lowering his gaze again.

“Why not? If you’re talking about money, I wasn’t exactly referring to Ivy League. Just take a few courses at a community college or so. I may be willing to help you out with the fees.”

“I said I can’t, okay?”

Cas doesn’t get why he’s defensive all of a sudden. He just offered to pay his tuition and now this.

“Dean, you know this marriage isn’t going to last forever and I want you to be able to stand on your own feet afterwards.”

Dean, however, gets up from the bar stool, takes his cup and says, “Thanks for the tea, Cas.”

“Dean, just…give me one good reason why you won’t even try.”

“Because,” Dean yells, slamming his cup onto the counter, tea spilling over. He takes a deep breath and starts over again, more calmly this time. “Because…your husband doesn’t even have a high school diploma.”

“Dean…”

Dean turns away from him to get the sponge from the sink and starts cleaning up his mess.

“So what,” Cas says after a while. “Then you get your GED first and later we can still think about college.”

“We?” Dean says and throws the sponge back into the sink. “There isn’t a _we,_ Cas. There’s you and then there’s me. You’re Mister I’m A College Graduate And World-travelling Pianist and I’m…me. And when this is over, nothing’ll have changed. We go our separate ways and live our lives like none of this ever happened.”

He picks up his cup and proceeds to go down the hallway, back to his room.

“Dean, at least think about!” Cas calls after him but Dean closes the door behind him without an answer and Cas finds it’s better to forget about his fraudulent husband’s mood swings for now and get back to work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you worry, they're about to break the ice!

Dean is pacing back and forth along the living room windows, waiting for his brother to pick up the phone.

“Heya, Sammy,” he says after being greeted with a rough ‘hello.’ “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, Dean,” Sam says.

“So, how’s it going out in California? Are you busy studying or did you get the day off?” He laughs.

“No, Dean. You don’t get a day off on your birthday but I’m having a party later tonight.”

“Oh, that’s great. I bet you’ve already made tons of friends who’re all as smart as you are.”

“A few,” Sam says.

“Any girls?” Dean mocks and he can basically hear Sam blushing through the phone.

“Uh, maybe…”

“Oh, do tell!”

“Dean—”

“Come on, Sammy, I’m your brother. There don’t have to be any secrets between us.” _Not from your side at least._

“Her name’s Jessica,” Sam eventually confides. “We’ve been dating for two months now.”

“Oh, Sammy, the West Coast has turned you into a womanizer,” Dean teases.

“ _Dean,”_ he sighs. “And by the way, it’s Sam. I’m not twelve anymore.”

“Got it,” Dean says.

“What about you? How’s Kansas City? Do you still work at that bar?”

“Uh, actually, no. I guess I’m a cook now,” he lies.

“A cook? How did that happen?”

“Oh, you know, this rich guy made me an offer. He’s working a lot and he needed someone to help him out.”

“Sounds like you’re a maid,” Sam says and snorts a laugh.

“I’m not a maid!” Dean whines, offended by the assumption, which only causes Sam to laugh harder. “There’s a cleaning lady coming once a week. I only do the cooking.”

When he’s steadied himself again, Sam asks, “Are there maybe any girls or boys you’d like to mention?”

“Nah,” Dean says, “you know me. I’m not really the guy for commitment.”

“You do you, Dean,” Sam says, then, “Anyway, sorry, but I gotta go to class now. The last one for today.”

“Have fun at your party, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam,” he insists. “Thank you for calling.”

“Always. Bye, brother.”

They hang up and Dean turns away from the window and is startled by Cas standing at the other end of the room. “Christ,” he breathes. “You’re like a ninja. Can’t you say something or do you really want me to have a heart attack? Is there life insurance I don’t know of?”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says, walks towards the piano and retrieves a stack of sheet music from his bag to place on top of it.

“Was that your brother?” he says then.

“Yes,” Dean says, “it’s his birthday today.”

“Ah,” Cas says but doesn’t dig further into the matter.

“Do you have any siblings?” Dean asks instead.

“None that I know of,” Cas says, looking through his music as he speaks. “No-one besides me came to make a claim for my father’s inheritance, at least, so I suppose not.”

Dean feels like asking if he’d liked to have any brothers or sisters but doesn’t think Cas would appreciate his efforts of furthering the conversation.

“You don’t need to make dinner today,” Cas says. “I had quite a big lunch with Balthazar today.”

“You and him hang out a lot,” Dean notes and he’s not sure why he did. Maybe it’s because he’s been on his own all day long and just wants to talk to someone for a change.

“We’re good friends,” Cas says.

“I had the impression he likes you when we had dinner with him.”

“Friends like each other, don’t they?” Cas says and looks at him with a frown.

“I meant like more than friends. Don’t tell me you never noticed.”

Cas takes a deep inhale and runs a hand through his hair. “We met a few years ago when I was living in Vienna for some time,” Cas says and sits on the piano bench. Dean also takes a seat at the dinner table. “He was currently working with the Vienna State Ballet and we were introduced by my friend Anna. He was older and I liked the attention he gave me but nothing ever happened and then we went our separate ways again until we both ended up here.”

Then he turns slightly to his side to open the lid of the piano and runs his fingers over the keyboard, without pressing any of the keys though.

“We had a deal to not start any relationships while we’re married. There are no double standards. I’m keeping my word as well.”

“Just because our marriage is fake doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, though. I’m alone in this city and you’re mostly alone in this country. You’ve got Balthazar and you’ve got Rowena but neither of them knows the truth. You’re lying to them. With me you can be completely honest, so why not make the most of our marriage while it lasts?”

“This wasn’t part of the deal, Dean. You don’t have to pretend to like me when we’re on our own.”

“I want us to get along, Cas. We have to live with each other after all.”

The silence in this big apartment right now is eerie.

“You think I’m a snob who doesn’t know how to have fun,” Cas says after a while.

“Well, you gotta admit that you aren’t very much fun,” Dean says and forces a smile onto his face.

“Because you think classical musicians are boring.”

Dean opens his mouth for a reply but Cas cuts him off. “They’re not. We’re disciplined, yes, but we’re also passionate about what we do and would you be passionate about something that’s not fun to you?”

“I guess not,” Dean says.

“And classical music is already in your life,” Cas says, turns now fully towards the keyboard and then the room is filled with music. Dean never noticed how loud that piano actually is. But how would he? He was never allowed outside his room while Cas was playing.

“I know this one,” Dean says then, astonished. He’s never actively listened to this kind of music, yet he’s certain that he’s heard this song before.

“Debussy, _Claire de lune,”_ Cas says after playing for a while.

“What?”

“Claude Debussy,” Cas explains, “the famous French impressionist.”

Dean stares back at him, still clueless. “How about this one,” Cas says and continues with another piece.

Dean wouldn’t admit it but he’s kinda impressed. And fuck him, he knows this one, too.

“Beethoven, _Moonlight Sonata,”_ Cas says.

“I know Beethoven,” Dean protests. He’s not dumb. “I know he did the, uh,” he starts to sing, “ _duh duh duh duhhh, duh duh duh_ ,” really low, “ _duhhh._ ”

“His Symphony No. 5, yes,” Cas says with an actual smile before resuming, “I bet you know this as well.”

And of course he does. Dean starts to sing along with Cas, banging his head with the rhythm, Cas now grinning from ear to ear. He’s playing faster and faster, though every note is on point, and Dean can’t believe how fucking cool this is.

“Wow,” he says when Cas has finished. “Man, I’m speechless. That one must’ve been tough.”

“Believe me, I’ve played pieces more difficult than this one. But I think I know what you mean. My job requires stamina. You can’t just take a break in the middle of a concerto because you’re out of breath after fifteen minutes.”

“I think I understand,” Dean says. “So, what was it? You didn’t say.”

“Grieg, _In the Hall of the Mountain King.”_

“Right, yes. I’m pretty sure I used to know this once.”

“I’ve got one more you’re definitely familiar with as well,” Cas says.

It’s a bit hard to tell at first because Dean’s never heard a piano version of it but then he jumps from his chair and proudly proclaims, “Star Wars, the Imperial March!”

“I’m glad to see you so excited about stuff that’s supposed to be boring,” Cas says, chuckling.

“I didn’t know you could be cool, Cas.” He’s walking over to the piano. “Good for you, man,” Dean says, patting his back.

“You should check out the Kauffman Center program sometime. You might be surprised to find out that they occasionally perform Star Wars and other movie scores.”

“Yeah, I might,” Dean says and he can’t remember the last time he was in such a good mood. “So… Do you just like the music or the movies, too? Star Wars, I mean.”

“Believe it or not, Dean, but I use that big TV over there from time to time. It’s just that I’ve had to work very hard on my performances lately.”

“Would you… Would you maybe wanna watch Star Wars with me some time?” Dean asks, with caution, though.

Cas, however, graces him with another smile and says, “I’d like to.” Then he takes a deep inhale and turns towards the keyboard again. “But right now I need to practice some more. So, if you could, maybe…”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean stumbles, “I’ll, I’ll go to my room. You do what you gotta do.”

The ending of their little jam session was a little bit awkward, yes, but Dean is still on a high when he leaves to give Cas some privacy. Maybe his fake husband isn’t such a killjoy after all.

 

Light floods the lobby of Kauffman Center as Cas strides across the polished marble floor. Rowena set up a meeting between him and violinist Linda Tran who, so he was told, wants to propose cooperation on a project and if there’s one thing Cas needs right now, it’s a steady job.

As he approaches, he sees them talking to two people, a man and a woman, he hasn’t met before. They all spin their heads upon his nearing steps.

“Mister Nowak?” the woman says.

“Yes?” he says, sending a questioning look towards Rowena. Perhaps those people are involved with what Linda is about to suggest to him.

“Castiel Nowak, we would like to have a brief talk in private with you,” the woman says and holds up some kind of badge in front of his face. “We’re with the DSS, Diplomatic Security Service. My name is Naomi, this is my partner Uriel,” she says, gesturing towards the massive guy behind her.

“Concerning what matter?” Cas asks, tense.

“Your status of residency,” Naomi says and Cas hopes his Adam’s apple didn’t give away how hard he just swallowed.

“Of course,” he says and signals them to step away a bit from Rowena and Linda.

“You got married recently,” Naomi says and Cas is unsure whether it’s a question or she’s just stating facts.

“I did,” he says.

“And I suppose you’re aware that, as of today, your residency is only legal on the grounds of your marriage. You would have been deported by now if you hadn’t married.”

“Well, yes,” Cas says, “which was one more reason for me and my then-boyfriend to tie the knot.”

“How long have you and—” now it’s Uriel talking, opening the folder he’s been holding, and reads the name, “Dean Winchester been together before that?”

“A few months,” Cas lies.

“Mr. Nowak,” Naomi says, “we’d like to have a talk with both you and Mr. Winchester soon.”

“Why, though, if you don’t mind me asking?” Cas says, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Standard procedure,” Naomi says but Cas isn’t buying any of it. “Just making sure we’re not dealing with a Green Card marriage here.”

Cas raises his eyebrows. “Of course,” he says.

“We’ll get in touch,” Naomi says and after a quick exchange of courtesies, they leave.

“Castiel,” Rowena says, rushing towards him. “Is everything alright?”

“Sure,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Everything is in order.”

“Really? Because these people were asking a lot of questions.”

A shiver runs over Cas’s back. “Did they?”

“Obviously I wasn’t quick to talk,” Rowena says. “I’ve had my fair share of experiences with the authorities here. They were very suspicious of your recent wedding, though.” She leans into him so Linda can’t hear what she’s saying next. “You didn’t do something ill-considered, did you?”

“Of course not,” Cas insists. “Rowena, I can assure you, everything’s perfectly fine. Please, don’t worry.”

“Well, alright then, let’s talk about why we’re here. Linda, you’ve met Castiel.”

“Only briefly, but yes,” Linda says. “I was a big fan of your father’s if you don’t mind me saying that.”

“We all were,” Cas says with a forced smile. He’s used to it. Everyone loved his father because they only knew him as a musician, as a performer, not as a person. Cas never even came close to what he was capable of.

“I’m planning a recording,” Linda says then. “If it all goes well, it might be the beginning of a series. I told the studio manager to recommend a pianist and since Rowena and I’ve been talking and she mentioned your fallout with Metatron Management & Records…”

Cas glares at Rowena. This wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge. “I’m sorry,” she says but Linda rushes to her defense.

“No, please don’t get me wrong. We weren’t gossiping about you. What happened between you and Marv isn’t really a secret around here, you know. News travels fast because musicians love a good rumor as much as the next person.” She pauses to take a breath. “So, would you be interested? Early twentieth century Russians is the theme we were going for.”

“I’m in,” Cas says.

“Great. I’ll arrange a meeting with Billie and then you can talk about the details of your audition. We’ll give you a call.”

“Thank you, Linda,” he says, proceeding to leave.

“Cas, wait,” Rowena says, “aren’t you going to have coffee with us?”

Cas wipes his hand at the back of his pants. He’s been itching to make a run for the entirety of their conversation. “I’m having an appointment. Linda, Rowena, thank you again. See you soon.”

He’s been having a hard time keeping it together but as soon as he’s exited the building, he’s bending over, struggling for air. Clearly, this was going to happen, yet it still took him by surprise.

He’s probably speeding on his way home, which is unwise considering the feds are already onto him.

“Dean!” he calls, throwing open the door to the apartment. “We have a problem.” He’s looking for something but doesn’t know what exactly. He needs to calm down. _No need to panic, breathe._

“Dean?” he says, spotting him at the dining table, seeming to be in distress as well.

“Cas, uh,” he mutters, “I wasn’t expecting you home so early.” He’s trying to quickly stuff books and papers into a messenger bag.

“I’m… I’ll go to my room. Just cleaning up. You can have to room to yourself,” Dean says, his voice strained.

“Dean, what are you doing?” He tries to grab a sheet of paper from the table but Dean is faster and pulls it away.

“ _Dean,”_ Cas says, with earnest this time.

Dean sighs and drops the bag on the floor, sitting down.

Cas picks up the bag to put it on the chair at the head of the table and takes a seat opposite Dean. He pulls out the first book he grabs and understanding dawns on him.

“Dean, are you studying to get your GED?”

“Maybe,” Dean says, arms crossed.

“Hey,” Cas says and reaches across the table, although Dean is too far away to touch. “I’m proud of you.”

Dean avoids his eyes. “You’re just saying this to make me feel less bad about myself because you don’t want your fake husband to be grumpy all the time.”

“I’m saying it because I mean it,” Cas says. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to take this step but I’m sure it’ll help you with your future.”

“I guess,” Dean says, pouting. Then, he looks up. “You said we have problem?”

Cas rubs a hand over his forehead. “Right, yes.”

“What kind of problem? You look kinda pale.”

“I had a visit from two federal officers today.”

Dean abruptly leans forward on his chair. “What? Why?”

“They were asking questions about the nature of our marriage.”

“Oh,” Dean sighs, understanding now.

“They are going to show up here sometime soon. We need to move your stuff to the closet in my bedroom. Most of it, at least. Make sure every morning that your bed looks like no-one has slept in it for a while. I guess you can leave your things in the bathroom. They should be able to convince that we’re using separate bathrooms because we can afford the luxury.”

“Cas, are you okay?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, sure, I mean considering the circumstances. Why?”

“Because you usually don’t talk that fast.”

“I was just thinking out loud.”

“Alright, yeah. I guess we better get moving then.”

There’s really nothing to worry about, no. Dean won’t tell the feds about their arrangement. They equally profit off their marriage and apparently he can count on his friends as well to back up their story. Not because he asked them to lie but because they’re left in the dark about the true reason he got married so quickly as much as the people who were sent by the government to interrogate him today.

He feels bad, however, for dragging Rowena down this road but how was he supposed to know they would be coming for his friends, too? Dean, on the other hand, appears to be quite calm about everything. Still, they should rehearse the upcoming interview with Naomi and Uriel or whomever they’re going to send next to get their stories straight.

“When did you change your mind?” Cas asks while neatly putting one of Dean’s plaid shirts on a hanger.

“About what?” Dean says, re-folding a T-shirt after throwing the entire stack on Cas’s bed.

“Your GED. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Dean mumbles. “I wanted to do my own thing. You shouldn’t think I decided to try because you told me to. Because I didn’t.”

“Of course,” Cas says. “However, if you need any help, you can come to me any time.”

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

“Sure.” Cas watches him for a moment, folding shirt after shirt, before returning to rearrange the closet for Dean’s stuff to have enough space.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Cas's issues with his self-esteem  
> \- brief swearing in Polish

Two months have passed since his encounter with the government officials. They’re probably waiting for them to forget about being on their radar and letting down their guard but that’s not going to happen. Cas knows they’re coming. The only thing he doesn’t know is when.

Dean has been busy studying. He’s started to attend classes and Cas is glad to see him get out of the house every once in a while and making friends of his own. He even got a part-time job at a café. Waiting tables is not what he’s been dreaming of growing up in a small town in Kansas but at least he’s making some money for himself while still having enough time to go to school.

Cas, meanwhile, has had a very productive meeting with Billie and now he’s focusing most of his days on getting ready to audition. There isn’t much time to prepare but he won’t fuck this up. Not this time.

Balthazar has been offering his advice, wanting to listen and give some constructive criticism, but seriously, what does he know? Cas isn’t telling him how to do his dancing either. Balt is his best friend and he means well but he should rather stick to his field of expertise.

Cas is a graduate from an excellent college, an institution in Poland, in Europe. He’s got a lot of experience and one mishap shouldn’t define his entire career.

It’s hard, though. It’s so hard. This used to be so much easier and it would fucking help if people stopped comparing him to his father. They didn’t even share a last name but Charles Shurley made sure that everyone knew who his son was. And he probably regretted it later, when Cas stayed behind his expectations.

“Shit,” he says. He messed up. Time is running out and he’s constantly got his mind wandering elsewhere instead of concentrating on the piece that’s supposed to be his comeback.

He tries again and although he definitely didn’t miss a key, it still doesn’t sound like it’s supposed to. He takes a few deep breaths and starts from the top.

No, wrong. _Wrong, wrong, wrong._

“Okay,” Cas says and squirms on the bench, pushing it an inch away from the piano, then back to its previous position. Instead he adjusts the height slightly. Did he grow or what?

Another attempt turns out better until he reaches a critical point and all he can think about is not to screw it up, which, of course, he does once again.

 _‘Why can’t you be better?_ ’ his father’s voice mocks him. _‘You’re supposed to be at the top of your generation. Your mother and I have invested so much time in your career and you’re not even trying.’_

“ _Kurwa ma_ _ć!”_ Castiel yells. He feels like he suddenly forgot how to play at all. “ _Pierdol się!”_ he screams and, face hot with rage, he sends his sheets flying across the room.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” every word accentuated by a random slam onto the keys. Then, with a bang, he crashes down the lid and buries his face into his hands. They’re vibrating from the force he hit the keyboard with and the piano itself resonates with an irritated, metallic sound.

“Cas?” Dean, behind him, says warily. He almost forgot he wasn’t alone.

“Are you alright, man?”

Cas shoots him a glare. “What do you think?” he barks at him.

“’m sorry,” Dean says, obviously taken aback by Castiel’s outbreak.

Cas makes a wheezing noise.

“Hey…” Dean doesn’t dare to touch him but he’s clearly trying to comfort him and Cas feels guilty for snapping. It’s not Dean’s fault that he’s a complete and utter disaster.

He heaves a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes. “It’s okay,” he says.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Dean suggests.

“I can’t. I don’t have time. I need to get this right.”

“You’re obviously not making any progress in the state you’re in. Wanna talk about it?”

Cas shakes his head.

“Then at least get some rest. Try again later,” Dean says and before Cas can reply, he’s gone, calling, “be right back!”

A minute later he returns, excited. “Look what I’ve got.”

“Dean, what—Star Wars?”

“The original trilogy. I borrowed it from the library. You said we could watch it sometime. Just the first one, you gotta work, I know, but come on. It’ll do you good to get your mind off this for a moment,” Dean says, picking up some of Cas’s clattered sheets.

Cas closes his eyes for a second. “Okay,” he says then.

“Really?”

“Yes, Dean, I’d like to watch Star Wars with you.”

“Awesome,” Dean says and jumps over the backrest of the sofa for the quickest way to get to the TV.

And Dean was right. It really does help to get his mind off work, if only for a little bit, and it’s been far too long since the last time he watched that movie.

They talk occasionally, pointing out their favorite scenes, humming along with the best parts of the score and Cas feels unexpectedly content.

“We should also watch _Lord of the Rings_ sometime,” Cas says when the credits roll.

“Cas,” Dean says and turns his face towards him, “you’re full or surprises.”

“Why, because I know blockbusters based on successful book series?”

Dean lets out a laugh and the sound of it makes Cas smile.

“I really love Howards Shore’s music.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, “it’s something.”

Then, he sits up, chuckling to himself. “You know what?” he says. “We kinda are Lords of the Rings,” which causes Cas to furrow his brows.

Dean sighs, rolling his eyes, and grabs Cas’s left hand. “Get it now?”

“Oh,” Cas breathes, his face lighting up, and he lets out a small laugh. “I guess we are.”

After a while he realizes they’re still holding up their hands, looking at their wedding bands reflecting the glow from the TV and quickly drops his onto the cushion.

“I should go back to work now, but thank you, Dean, I had a really good time.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs and presses pause on the remote. “You’re welcome.”

He gets up to put the Blu-ray back in its case, then he turns around and says, “Can I stay?”

“What?”

“I want to hear what you’re working on. I’m curious.”

“Oh…” Cas is standing awkwardly by the piano. “Dean, you know I need to concentrate and I—”

“And I won’t disturb you. I’ll just be sitting here, maybe read one of my textbooks while you play. Besides, you’ll have to perform it in front of other people sooner or later anyway. And it’s not like you’ve never had an audience, right?”

“Dean, I don’t know…”

“Please. I won’t make a noise, I promise.”

Cas purses his lips. He’s feeling nervous. He hasn’t had to deal with serious stage fright in a while but he finds the idea of Dean silently judging him unsettling.

“I’m not good,” he says.

“You’re not feeling well?” Dean asks, taking a step forward.

“No,” Cas shakes his head, “I mean I’m not good at this,” he says, gesturing towards the piano. “I should be, but I’m not.” He sits on the bench and buries his head in in his hands once again.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dean says and comes over to him.

“It’s true,” Cas says. “Everyone knows. Even the people who asked me to work with them on this. They probably don’t even seriously consider me for the part. The just want to watch me fail again for a good laugh.”

“Cas, just…shut up, okay? You have a career to proof that’s bullshit.”

“No matter how hard I try,” Cas says, “I will never be what my father was wishing for.”

“Is that what this is all about?”  
“He put so much hope in his legacy—me. But I was never the child prodigy he wanted. I was ambitious, yes, but I lacked the talent. You could’ve expected more from my parents’ offspring. I have my father’s genes, so why can’t I be like him?”

“Hey, Cas, listen,” Dean says, kneeling by the bench and grabbing him by his bicep. “Were you privileged in that regard? Yes. Did you take your background for granted, though? No. You invested a lot of hard work and you did what you could. Look at me. I didn’t finish school and I can’t hold a job. And then there’s my brother. He’s a genius, despite having the same genes as me. But you know what? I’m making the most of my life. You know who made me realize that? You, Cas. So get your head out of your ass and stop whining. You can do it. If _you_ don’t believe in yourself, no-one will.”

His first instinct is to bury his head in the sand and tell Dean to just leave him the fuck alone. He’s always been on his own. But one thing it true, though. He can rely on himself. Maybe he isn’t the best pianist in the world, so what, he’s still fucking good, better than a lot of others who’ve tried and failed even harder.

He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and turns around on the bench and begins to organize his sheets. He’ll show them. He’ll show everyone. He’ll show his father, he’ll show Marv and everyone who’s ever doubted his abilities.

Dean seems to understand and leaves, not entirely though, and Cas doesn’t mind him staying anymore. They both still have to put a lot of effort into accomplishing what either of them would consider enough, but at least they have the other’s support. For now. Until they don’t need each other anymore.

 

“Balthazar invited us to the matinee this Saturday,” Cas says.

Dean lowers his book. “So?”

“I said we’d come.”

“We’re talking about ballet, right?”

“Yes. It’s like a pre-premiere for his new show.”

“And you thought I’d come along because…?”

“Because he reserved tickets for the both of us and since we’re married and do what married people do, like going out together, we’re both coming.”

“Cas, ugh—”

“No further discussion, Dean. We’re going. You don’t have to pretend to be totally into ballet but at least give it a chance, okay? Also, I’d really like you to see our city’s performing arts center for once. I assume you’ve never been there?” Dean stays silent which is conformation enough for Cas. “The architecture is really impressive, trust me. And by the way, there’ll be free drinks and finger food afterwards.”

He lets out a sigh and drops back his head. “Fine.”

So, on Saturday morning, they drive up to that weird, shiny building that from some angles looks like a distorted seashell and Dean feels a bit intimidated by the vastness of the entry hall. He’s never been in a place like this and when they set foot into the theater, his breath catches in his throat.

Cas thrusts a program in his lap before he even gets to recover and is properly seated. He just can’t stop looking around and taking everything in.

“Cas, darling!” Balthazar comes rushing along the row in front of them and leans over the seats to pull Cas into a hug. “Dean, thank you for coming as well,” he says.

“It’s Dean’s first time at the ballet,” Cas tells him.

“Really? Well, I hope not to disappoint,” Balthazar says with a smirk.

“I’m excited,” Dean admits. “And this place, it’s so….huge. Very impressive.”

“Oh, if you like that, just wait till there’s actually something going on onstage,” Balthazar says. “Anyway, my dears, I’m afraid I have to go back now and see how everyone’s doing. We’ll talk later.”

He and Cas don’t speak until the room goes dark and the music starts, but the curtains remain closed. Then, finally, the scenery is revealed and a handful of dancers make their way onto the stage. Most of it stays in the dark, at first, but when the lighting changes, he can see the set design that, although discreet, is kinda cool, like paper cut-outs, reminding him of a shadow play. As the story moves on, which Dean honestly can’t quite follow, the stage design becomes even more sophisticated, fitting Balthazar’s choreography like a glove.

Besides that, he really enjoys the view of the guys’ tight pants—man, he just lifted the girl up like she weighs nothing! And look at that ass, and the thighs…he knows exactly what he’ll be thinking of the next time he takes a shower and bites his lip. He wonders if Cas has similar thoughts. Probably not.

The show does have its lengths, though. At least, there’s a break before the grand finale and then, after everyone’s done applauding, there’s finally some food waiting for him.

“So, what did you think?” Cas asks before putting a salmon canapé into his mouth.

“It was alright, I guess. Those guys can do some really good stuff. But I haven’t instantly turned into a ballet nerd, just so you know.”

“I didn’t expect that,” Cas says and they both take a glass of champagne off the tray the waiter is offering them.

Balthazar is approaching them through the crowd, kissing some cheeks on the way. “So, Dean,” he says. “How was your first time?”

“Don’t be too honest,” Cas says and startles Dean by sneaking an arm around his waist.

“Nonsense, don’t listen to him. Of course I want you to be honest.”

“Well, I really liked the stage design,” Dean says, followed by a small laugh at the sight of Balthazar’s face.

“Forget what I said. Lie to me. Lie all the way.”

“I’m kidding,” Dean says. “Obviously I’m not the right person to ask for a review, although I think I can get used to watching the guys in those tights.”

“Oooh,” Balthazar coos, amusedly placing a hand in front of his mouth. “Castiel, you better watch out. Don’t leave him alone around my boys.”

“I don’t have any concerns,” Cas says as the grip on Dean’s waist tightens. He’s looking at him as he speaks and Dean feels that their faces are awfully close.

“You boys are too perfect,” Balthazar says. “Anyway, you made me think, Dean. If you really like the stage design so much, would you maybe later like to take a small tour backstage?”

Dean briefly catches Cas’s eye, before replying, “Yeah, sure. I’d like to. Thanks, Balt.”

“Wonderful! If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll have to finish my round but I’ll be back with you soon. Have some more champagne in the meantime!”

As soon as Balthazar is gone, Cas moves so that he’s face to face with Dean, his hand never leaving Dean’s waist. Instead, the other hand reaches up to the back of his head and pulls him closer so Cas can whisper in his ear.

“You didn’t have to say yes,” he murmurs.

“I’m actually really interested. I’ve never been backstage anywhere,” Dean says. “But, uh, Cas, what are you doing?”

“Keeping up the appearance that we’re an actual couple. You may have forgotten that the government is onto us but I did not.”

“I doubt that they’re here right now, watching.”

“You never know.”

“Cas, aren’t you a little too paranoid about this?”

With a rather abrupt move, Cas pulls his head back so that they’re looking at each other. “Dean, we can’t risk anything. We both have too much to lose now!”

After a deep intake of breath, Dean says, “Okay, you’re right. Just…tell me what to do. Should we make out now or what?”

“ _Dean.”_

“Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds,” Balthazar says suddenly and he and Cas break apart. Some bearded, sinister looking guy is standing next to him.

“It’s okay,” Cas says with a tense smile.

“Boys, this is Cain, head scenographer of our fine institution,” Balthazar introduces. “He’d show you around behind the scenes if you’re still interested.”

“Sure, thank you,” Dean says. “Nice to meet you, Cain.” He notes the tight grip as they shake hands.

“I’m afraid I won’t yet be able to accompany you,” Balthazar says, “but you’ll be in good hands with Cain.”

“Follow me,” Cain says then and so they do.

Dean is amazed by the things Cain shows and explains to them and when they enter the stage to give them the performers’ perspective of the theatre, his jaw drops and he’s getting a bit shaky.

“This is…terrifying,” he says. Then, to Cas, “How do you get out here, see all this and not die?”

“You get used to it,” Cas deadpans.

Surprised, Dean says, “You do?”

“Not really, no. But it gets less scary after some time.”

“After all these years in this job,” Cain says, “I’m still glad that I work behind the scenes.”

Cain leads them to the side to show Dean how they’ve moving the different pieces of scenery around and it takes him a while to notice that Cas is still standing in the middle of stage, lost in thought. He’s small in comparison to the wide space of the theatre but confident, like he owns the place.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Dean tells Cain before walking up to Cas.

“Do you miss it?”

With a sigh, Cas turns around to him. “I do,” he says. “One more reason not to spoil my chance with the audition. I have a reputation to fix.”

Dean nods and gives Cas’s shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Wanna stay here?”

“If you don’t mind,” Cas says.

“No. I’ll catch you when I’m done with Cain,” Dean says and, giving Cas a soft smile, he goes back to find out what else Cain has in store for him.

In the end, Dean is really glad that Cas made him come here. Not so much for the ballet but for the opportunity to learn about the work of Cain and his team. He’s always liked to build stuff. When he was still in school, woodshop was his favorite class and the only thing that felt like being worth the time. He also taught himself how to fix the Impala because he couldn’t really have afforded to take it to a garage anyway but also because he had a good time doing the work.

He finds Cas later in the lobby, chatting along with Balthazar, looking tired.

“Hey, there you are. Can we go now?”

“Dean, how was it?” Balthazar asks.

“Kinda awesome. Thanks for arranging it for me, Balt.”

“Ah, you’re welcome, Dean.”

“Cas?” Dean says and holds out a hand to help him get up from his seat.

Without a second thought, Cas takes it and rises onto his feet. “The last glass of champagne might’ve been too much,” he says and Dean muses that his pronunciation just sounded like when they first met.

“How many did you have while I was gone?”

“A few…” he says and Dean lets out a small laugh.

“Take good care of him,” Balthazar says and gives Dean’s back an appreciative rub.

“You’ll conquer the stage soon again, I’m sure,” Dean says when they’re back in the car.

“I know,” Cas says, changes the station to something classical, folds his hands in contentment and closes his eyes.

Everyone else who would’ve dared to change the music without his consent, would’ve gotten their assess kicked by Dean but for some reason, at least this once, Cas gets a pass.


	5. Chapter 5

Cas’s big day has come and Dean insists on driving him to the studio.

“You’ve got other things to focus on right now than city traffic,” he says and, surprisingly, Cas doesn’t argue with him.

He’s been pacing up and down the apartment the entire morning, going through his music over and over until Dean reminded him that it was time to go.

“Okay,” Dean says when he’s found a parking space that’s close to the studio entrance. “Call me when you’re done. I’m gonna stay nearby.”

Cas’s fingers are hammering against the door handle. “Come with me,” he says.

“You sure?”

“Yes, please.”

However, as soon as they meet Billie, Cas appears to be a different person. He’s confident all of a sudden and Dean has become not much more than an extra, tailing him inconspicuously like a bodyguard.

“Castiel, it’s a pleasure to finally have you here.” Billie’s voice is low. She’s speaking politely but her tone doesn’t leave any doubt that Cas has yet to prove himself to her.

“I guess, without much further ado, we get started,” she says and leads him into a much larger, brighter room that has a few rows of seats and a piano at the end.

Dean aims for the seats while Cas adjusts the bench for his liking and, hands yet resting in his lap, lowers his head for moment to collect himself. Dean keeps his eyes on him from the third row while Billie is waiting, expectant but patient, in the front.

With a final breath, Cas raises his hands to the keyboard. Dean knows the piece inside out. For weeks he’s heard Cas play it every single day. He’s probably more familiar with it by now than with any rock song he’s ever been obsessed with.

His hands are balled into fists and he’s holding his breath for most of the time. If Cas is as nervous as he is, he’s doing an excellent job of not letting anyone know. He’s doing well, as far as Dean can tell and as soon as everything started, it’s over, the final harmony still resonating within the room.

After a sharp intake of breath through her nose, Billie claps her hands on her thighs and says, “Well…”

Dean stretches his neck, gripping the back of the seat in front of him.

Billie stands up and takes two slow steps forward, the clacking of her heels echoing from the walls.

“Technically,” she says, “your performance was flawless. But—,” a brief glance at her phone, “I’d say I quickly return the call I just got and you do it again. With more feeling, hopefully.”

Cas doesn’t say anything, his face blank.

The moment the door falls closed behind her, Cas’s hands shoot up to his hair, pulling, crouched posture on the bench.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean says and rushes towards him.

Cas’s hands are shaking. “I’ll never be able to step out of my father’s shadow,” he says.

“I don’t understand what her problem was. I think you did great,” Dean says.

Cas looks at him. “You know, when I got here, I had a deal in my pocket with this guy, Marv. He owns a record label and he’s also a tour manager. I needed this contract to be able to stay here. You know what he used to call me? The ice prince. Because, apparently, my performances lacked emotion. I tried so hard to please him and in the end I completely fucked up because I couldn’t stop trying to force myself to deliver the feeling I was supposed to. For a moment my mind went blank. It wasn’t during a concert but some important people were there and I was so embarrassed, I just wanted to run and hide under a rock. My father never had these kinds of issues. It all just came to him naturally and audiences loved him for his capabilities.”

“I thought your dad was an asshole.”

“He was.”

“Then he was just very good at faking that he’s not an emotionless dick. You’re different,” Dean says, his hand finding his way onto Cas’s shoulder. “I’m glad you are. You care about other people’s feelings—just show them, don’t hold it back. Just be you.”

A squeeze of the shoulder stresses the importance of his final words.

The door flies open and Billie strides back inside. “Shall we?” she says. “Once more with feeling.”

Dean returns to the seats again, opting for the front row as well now, and Cas doesn’t waste any time to get back to playing, though, before he does, he sends a brief look into Dean’s direction.

He’s too scared to watch Cas. Instead he just listens, observing Billie’s every reaction.

Her expression doesn’t give anything away at first. However, when Cas gets to what he has always deemed a critical point, the muscles around her mouth curl up slightly and Dean’s heart is racing as Cas plays on.

When he’s finished once again, he doesn’t dare to look at Billie, obviously afraid of her reaction.

“That’s much more like it,” Billie says after a few tense seconds and Cas lets out a breath of relief as well as Dean.

“I’m glad to finally get started,” she says and walks over to the piano to shake Cas’s hand.

They spent a few minutes to go over the details and Billie gives Cas the contacts of the other musicians involved so they can meet up for rehearsal.

“I have to call Rowena,” Cas says when they’re outside on the way to Dean’s car.

“And I’m taking you out to eat now,” Dean says. “We gotta celebrate. Ask Rowena if she wants to come, Balthazar too. I’m so proud of you, Cas. You did it…Cas, you did it! I knew you would.”

Cas stops to give him a soft smile. “Thank you, Dean,” he says before pulling his phone out of his pocket to call his friends and share the good news.

Later, at night, long after the impromptu party they held for Cas, Dean is woken up by faint music coming from the living room. Cas went to bed the same time he did so Dean is confused to find him up again.

Cas is playing a gentle, not exactly cheerful, though not sad either, melody with long pauses between notes.

It’s rather dark, only the city lights draping everything in a soft glow.

“Hey,” Dean says softly. The music stops. “Can’t sleep?”

“It’s been an exciting day,” Cas says in a low voice, pulling his hands away from the keyboard.

“You okay?” Dean asks, standing next to Cas still on the bench, with his back to the piano.

“Mhm,” Cas says. He doesn’t look at Dean as far as he can tell, the instrument casting its shadow on him.

“You did well today,” Dean reminds him in case he’s having self-doubts again. He reaches out to touch Cas’s shoulder as he’s used to do by now but Cas stops the forward movement by taking his hand instead.

Feather-light, his fingertips study its skin. Cas seems to measure the length of his fingers as if to determine whether or not they’d be suited for playing the piano. Dean doesn’t pulls away. He just lets him do.

“Cas,” he says, after a while, about to tell him to go back to bed, and Cas drops his hand.

Within the blink of an eye, he has risen to his feet and then, Dean doesn’t know who moves first, their lips meet in a hasty kiss. Cas arms wrap around his middle and Dean’s over Cas’s shoulders, a hand coming to comb thick hair at the back of his head.

Cas stumbles forward, causing Dean to crash into the piano, involuntarily pressing a bunch of keys with his ass, the tinkling bringing a sharp and sudden end to the nocturnal silence.

It’s almost funny how this must sound to someone not aware what’s going on. His lips are wet with saliva from the open-mouthed kisses, Cas’s tongue moving against his, the bright, dissonant clash of the keys.

Dean can feel the stubble as his thumb strokes along Cas’s cheek, feels it on his lips, too. He shaved this morning to make the best possible impression but his five o’clock shadow has undone the work already.

Cas’s hands move, from above his waist to his lower back, even lower and then…his hands are gone, lips withdrawing as well. There’s a creek and now Dean gets what’s going on behind him. He’s pushed forward, slightly, by smooth, solid wood as Cas gently drops the lid and silences the strange tune at Dean’s rear.

Cas breathes on his face, hot, and Dean’s gotten pretty warm.

“Cas,” he murmurs, hoping this won’t stop when he tries to get rid of his shirt but decides to risk it anyway if this means that Cas will follow his lead and, lucky as he is lately, he does.

Both hands sliding over the smooth skin at the back of Cas’s neck, grazing the smoothness of his bare shoulders, Dean is caught off guard when Cas bends his knees and hooks his arms under Dean’s thighs to haul him up and sit him on the now closed lid.

Apparently, there’s an exception for when and how one is allowed to do things with this instrument other than play it but Dean doesn’t mind to be taught the rules.

Cas moves in between the space of Dean’s legs, still holding onto them and pulling forward so that they’re flush at their crotches and Dean realizes that jerking off to ballerinos and ballerinas might not’ve been enough to not reveal his excitement so soon in a situation like this but here they are now and he’s getting hard, though he’s pleased to notice that he and Cas are in the same boat.

Cas kisses him, one hand moving up to his back again, the other keeping him in place by the thigh and Dean gladly keeps the leg in question hooked around Cas’s hip so he can slightly start rocking into him. Cas, in response, pulls him even closer and joins into Dean’s rhythm.

There’s sweat in the hollow of Dean’s throat, or maybe it’s just the humidity of Cas’s breath. Dean brushes back the hairs curling behind his ear to place a kiss there, only to let it be followed be another one, sucking at the side of his neck and Cas’s gasps. The front of his boxers feels wet all of a sudden. He didn’t come, not yet, Dean is sure of it but before he can even finish the thought, Cas frees himself of Dean’s leg and lets go, which leads to Dean sliding off the piano.

“Shit,” Cas hisses and now Dean understands where the damp spot on his underwear came from.

Dean lets out a small laugh. “It’s okay, Cas,” he says, “nothing to be embarrassed about. Can happen to anyone.” He definitely won’t shame Cas for finishing early.

“We shouldn’t have done this,” Cas wheezes and rushes to collect his shirt from the floor.

“Cas, hey, I said it’s cool,” Dean says and tries to get ahold of him but Cas brushes him off and makes a run for his room.

Dean stands in front of the closed door for a while, considering whether to knock or let Cas sleep over what just happened first.

They’re two consenting adults and it’s not like anyone broke their deal of not hooking up during their fake marriage, so why not make the most of it within its boundaries. He’s got no clue what Cas’s problem is.

Anyway, he picks the second option and heads for his own room.

 

“Get up!”

A sharp pain shoots through his eyes when the shades are opened and sunlight fills the room.

“I said, get up!” Cas repeats and throws a shirt at him. “Put on some pants, hurry up—they’re here!”

“Who is?” Dean asks, pulling the shirt over his head.

“The DSS, for fuck’s sake!” Cas says and tugs at Dean to get him out of bed and starts to plump up the pillows. “Your bed can’t look like someone slept in here.”

“Shit, Cas, why didn’t you tell me sooner…”

They hurriedly finish the bed and then rush to the front door, loud knocking accompanying the bell.

“Good morning,” Cas says. He obviously knows these people from their previous visit. “Naomi, Uriel, I’m sorry if you had to wait. We were celebrating last night and it got late. Took us a few minutes to wake up.”

The woman, Naomi, wrinkles her nose. “You are Mr. Winchester, I assume,” she says.

“That’s me,” Dean says, followed by a nervous laugh.

“Would you let us in,” Naomi says. It’s a demand, not a question.

“Yes, sure,” Cas says and leads them towards the living room but Uriel gets held up at Cas’s open bedroom door, snooping inside.

“Can I help you with something?” Dean asks and notices that the other side of the bed looks slept in as well. Obviously, another detail Cas took care of.

Uriel doesn’t answer. Instead he goes over to inspect the closet and opens it to find not only Cas’s but also most of Dean’s clothing.

Wordlessly, he walks past Dean and leaves to join Naomi and Cas by the dining table.

“Uh, would you like some coffee, maybe?” Dean says.

“No, thank you,” Naomi says, “please, sit. There are a few things we need to talk about.” So they sit, Dean and Cas at one side of the table, Naomi and Uriel on their opposite.

“Mr. Winchester,” Naomi starts, “when did you and your husband meet?”

He gives Cas a quick side-glance before he speaks. “A few months ago, after I moved here.”

“You previously lived in Lebanon, Kansas, is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You’ve got any family?”

“A younger brother and my dad.”

“So if we were to talk to them, what would they tell us about your relationship with Mr. Nowak?”

Dean’s palms are sweaty. He’s fidgeting with the ring on his left hand under the table. “I haven’t told them,” he says. “Because my dad would kick my ass if he knew that I got married to a guy. We’re not very close.”

“How about your brother, Samuel?”

They know his name. Of course they know his name. They did their research and now he’s screwed. They’re screwed. This is probably a trap and they’ve already talked to Sam. Although, he would’ve called if someone had told him about Dean’s marriage.

“He’s at college, in California. This isn’t really something I wanna tell him over the phone. I thought I do it the next time I see him in person.”

“Why didn’t you wait, have guests, tell people in advance?” Naomi asks, still directed at Dean.

“I didn’t want the man I love to get deported, okay,” Dean says. “We couldn’t wait, and we didn’t want to.” He looks at Cas next to him, meeting his eyes.

Cas grabs his hand under the table which is an unnecessary move because Naomi and Uriel can’t see. Cas seems to understand, lifts up their joined hands and brings them to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on Dean’s knuckles.

Naomi clears her throat. “Mr. Winchester,” she resumes, “what do you currently do for a living?”

“I’m a waiter but, um, I’m taking my GED exams next week, so if all goes well, I might start looking for another job, one that pays better, I hope.”

“Do you play any musical instruments?”

“Um, no,” Dean says, frowning, “but I love listening to Cas when he plays piano.”

Naomi and Uriel ask a few more questions, nothing that he and Cas haven’t been practicing, though, and after a final tour through the apartment, the guest room looking unsuspicious, they leave with a vague promise of another surprise visit.

“Do you understand now why you needed to learn the places I’ve lived before coming here?” Cas says when they’re finally on their own.

“Yeah, and you had to study the times Sammy and I were temporarily taken into foster care,” Dean replies.

“We’re still not on the save side, though,” Cas says, “we can’t drop the act just yet.”

“I know…that’s why I have to tell him.”

“Who?”

“My brother,” Dean says. “He needs to know. What if some government officials get to him before I do? Even though I’ll be lying to him, he at least deserves to hear it from me first. I better do it now.” He takes a look at the clock on his phone. Sam should be up by now, unless college has taken away his early bird attitude.

_Man, he’s gonna be so pissed._

Dean goes back to his room and sits on the made bed. It’s ringing.

“Heya, Sammy,” he says, then corrects, “I’m sorry, _Sam._ ”

“Dean, why are you calling so early?”

“You’re not up yet?”

“I am but it’s Saturday.”

“Whatever…Sam, I need to tell you something. You have to promise not to be mad at me.”

“Dean, what did you do?” Sam sounds serious.

“I got married,” Dean says.

“What? To whom? When?”

“About five months ago. His name is Cas.”

“You married a dude, seriously? Dad’s gonna rip your head off when he finds out.”

“He doesn’t need to find out, ever, you understand me?”

“Sure, Dean. He won’t hear it from me. So, why is it only now that you’re telling me? Why wasn’t I invited to the wedding?”

“No-one was, okay? It was a spur of the moment kinda thing. I was too afraid to tell you over the phone and I didn’t know when I was gonna see you next, so time passed and I never really got a chance to bring it up.”

“I’m coming to Kansas City,” Sam says.

“What? Sam, no. Don’t you have to go to school?”

“School doesn’t start for another three weeks and my summer job is over soon. I was gonna spend the rest of my break with Jess and her family but I don’t think she’d mind if I get there a few days later.”

“Sam, really, this can wait. No need to rush things now.”

“ _Dean,”_ Sam insists, “I haven’t seen you in almost a year and you got married! There’s a lot to talk about. I’ll check the flights and call you back.”

“I’m busy next week,” Dean says. “I’ve got a lot on my plate and I won’t be able to spend time with you.”

“And I still have to work next week so don’t worry about me being in your way during your busy week. What are you up to anyway?”

Dean sighs. “I’m getting my GED. Exams start on Tuesday.”

“Dean! That’s so great—why didn’t you tell me?”  
“Because I didn’t want you to freak out. We don’t even know if I’ll pass so don’t get too excited.”

“Of course you’ll pass. You’re a smart guy.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean says, “tell me when you’re flying in. I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

“See you soon, jerk.”

“Later, bitch,” Dean says and they hang up.

Well, that was easy. However, the tricky part is yet to come.

“Cas,” Dean says, finding his fake husband hunched over a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter, rubbing his forehead. “We have a problem. My brother is coming to stay with us.”

Eyes widening, Cas looks up. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“He wasn’t gonna change his mind on this, believe me, I tried.”

“So he’s staying in the guest room—your room?”

“Can’t let him sleep on the sofa unless you’d like to explain to him why we don’t share a bed.”

Cas lets out a long breath through his nose, hands desperately clinging to his cup.

“Cas,” Dean says, “what happened last night—”

“It was a mistake.” He brings the cup to his lips, takes a sip from his coffee and moves past Dean.

Dean takes a moment to process Cas’s reply. “You’re right,” he says then, “yes, you’re probably right.” This whole marriage fraud is already weird enough without the making out and dry humping. And he shouldn’t get too attached to his fake husband. They’re gonna split up anyway. Though, being celibate is a lot harder than he’d thought—no pun intended—and Cas turned out to be a more than passable kisser.

So, whatever, time to study. He won’t be able to face his college student brother ever again if he fails his GED.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of John Winchester's A+ parenting

“Hey there, stranger,” Dean says as he embraces his brother after Sam’s walked into the arrival area at MCI.

“You look different,” Sam notes. “You look happy.”

“Well, I am,” Dean says. “Glad to have you here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam says, his eyes lingering on Dean’s left hand as they pull apart.

“Is he here?” Sam asks.

“Who? Cas?”

“Your husband, yes.” Sam snorts. “Wow, that sounded so weird. Dude, you’re married!”

Dean lets out a laugh. “I know. I often can’t believe it myself.”

“So, I take it he isn’t around or waiting in the car?”

“No, he’s at home, working. He said he’d leave us to catch up first.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot to catch up on.”

“In the car,” Dean says and tries to fight Sam for his backpack who insists he can carry it on his own.

“What do you even have in there?” Dean asks. “That thing is huge. Are you planning on moving in with us? I thought you’re only staying a couple of days.”

“And afterwards I’m heading to Jessica’s right away,” Sam says.

“Oh, right, the girlfriend. Tell me about her.”

“Nice try,” Sam says and slams the trunk of Dean’s Impala shut after putting his backpack inside. “You go first.”

“Sure. What do you wanna hear?”

He and Cas agreed that they would stick to their usual story. The one that they told Cas’s friends and, most importantly, the DSS. Dean feels awful for lying to his brother but he doesn’t have another choice. Maybe, one day, when all this is long over and Cas is an upright, legal citizen, independent from anyone else, he’ll tell Sammy the truth. Maybe they’ll laugh about it then, about how naïve Dean was in his youth.

“You know, no offence, but, regardless of being bisexual, I always thought you’d end up with a girl, just to please Dad,” Sam says some time into their conversation.

“Dad isn’t in the equation anymore. My life is none of his business.” Dean notices how his jaw clenched right when Sam mentioned him.

“That’s great, Dean, really. I’m glad to hear you saying this.”

“And who knows, maybe I only married a guy just to spite him,” Dean says and huffs a little laugh. Maybe he should pay his old man a visit after all.

“Should we make a trip to Lebanon, you think?” Dean says then. “You know, check if he’s still alive?”

“Pass,” Sam says and of course he does. He didn’t stay a moment longer than necessary after finishing school.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean murmurs and pats his brother’s knee over the bench.

“So, what would you like to do first?” Dean says in an effort to finally change from that awful subject. “We’ve got a lot of great museums here I’m sure you’d geek out over. There’s the zoo and, oh, the library. We should definitely check out the library. Or we could get some barbecue to get you into the right mood.”

“How about you show me where you live and introduce me to your husband before we do anything else?”

The cold sweat of his hands makes the steering wheel slippery. Dean swallows hard. “Or that,” he says. “Sure.”

They stand next to each other in the elevator in silence, Sam rather because he’s still impressed by the size of the building than being nervous about meeting his brother’s husband for the first time. Dean, however, hopes Sam won’t see right through their act. So far they haven’t had to deal with anyone who’s known Dean his whole life.

“Here we are,” Dean says as they reach their floor, backpack now slung over his shoulders because he beat Sam to it at the trunk.

He unlocks and opens the door. Piano music can be heard from the living room.

“Is that him playing?” Sam whispers and Dean nods, leading him into the guest room.

“Wow,” Sam says.

“My first reaction too,” Dean says and drops Sam’s backpack onto the bed. “Don’t get too comfortable, though. We want your ass outta here by Saturday.”

“Haha,” Sam mocks and proceeds to take a look at the bathroom. “Kudos to marrying well,” he says.

“Are you calling me a trophy wife?”

“Maybe. But I gotta see what he looks like first.”

They both chuckle at their jokes but Dean realizes he can’t draw this out forever. “Come on now,” he says and Sam follows him.

They find Cas in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge. “Hello,” he says upon hearing them come in. “I thought I heard something.” He closes the fridge again and walks up to them.

“You must be Sam,” he says, reaching out a hand.

“And you must be Cas,” Sam says and grabs the offered hand to shake.

They part awkwardly, Cas taking a step behind, Sam glancing at Dean, expecting him to do something to break the ice.

“So, uh,” Dean says, “Sam wanted to meet you first before we’d get started on any sightseeing. I’ve already filled him in a little on the blanks on our ride from the airport.”

“I heard you playing when we got here,” Sam says. “I’m not an expert but it sounded really good.”

“Thank you,” Cas says. It’s obviously not what he considers a compliment but at least Sam tried.

“Would anyone like a beer?” Cas says then.

“Uh,” Sam groans and shoots a questioning look at Dean.

“Oh, right,” Cas breathes, “I always forget. It’s okay with me if it’s okay with Dean.”

“Don’t act like you’ve never had a drink before, Sammy,” Dean says, slaps his shoulder, and walks over to the fridge to retrieve three bottles.

“For your twenty-first birthday, I’m gonna take you to Vegas,” Dean says and hands Sam an uncapped beer. “To having you here.”

“To your marriage,” Sam says. “Cas, how do you toast in Polish?”

Cas rolls his eyes but smiles anyway. Again, Sam’s making an effort. “ _Na zdrowie,”_ he says, followed by Sam and Dean echoing him and then they drink.

Sam continues to make small talk with Cas, asking him about classical music and places he’s visited throughout his career. Cas, in turn, gets him to tell about California and his girlfriend. Dean watches, amused somehow, keeping at the sideline for most of the conversation. They seem to get along, mostly. Cas is probably faking, though. There’s no need for him to actually warm up to his sham husband’s brother.

“I think I could eat now,” Dean says when they’ve emptied their beers.

“Me too. I’m starving,” Sam says. “What about you, Cas?”

Both Cas and Dean look at him in surprise.

“What?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know,” Dean says. “I thought it’d be just you and me. A family dinner.”

They’ve talked about this. Cas would stay behind to give them a break from acting as a couple all day. They’d have enough pretending on the days to come anyway.

“Exactly,” Sam says. “Brother and brother-in-law. Or don’t you wanna tag along, Cas?”

Dean realizes that he’s never thought of it that way. That Cas is family now. Sam’s family as well. Real or not. He and Cas are legally married and that makes Cas and Sam brothers-in-law.

“Oh, that’s really kind of you, Sam,” Cas says. “But I’m afraid I have to decline. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to meet up with my ensemble for practice.”

Dean knows that this isn’t scheduled for another two hours but lets it slide. Cas is much more scared of things going wrong with Sam than he is, though Dean has ensured him a dozen times that he wouldn’t snitch even if he found out the truth.

Dean takes his brother to one of the many great places to have a barbecue and it is only now that he realizes how much he missed Sam. They joke and tease just like in the good old times when they were kids. Well, not everything was great but Dean couldn’t have wished for a better sibling.

During dessert, Sam all of a sudden says, “I don’t think Cas likes me very much.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know. For one, he didn’t want to join us for dinner. And he was tense all the time like he couldn’t wait to get away.”

“That’s not fair. He’s got work stuff tonight, he said so, and he’s just nervous about messing things up with his brother-in-law. He wants you to like him.”

“Well, I do. I think. I haven’t had much opportunity to get to know him yet.”

“There will be many other occasions, even after your visit,” Dean lies.

“Maybe it’s the cultural differences but I think he comes off as a bit reserved.”

“That’s just the way he is. I know he seems very stiff when you first get to know him but he’s a really fun guy.”

“This first impression obviously didn’t scare you off when you two first met,” Sam notes.

“Yeah, that too, I guess,” Dean says, then, with a grin, “but, I mean, have you seen him. Guy’s hot.”

“Yep. My fault for going there,” Sam says, shaking his head and Dean is proud of himself for finding a way to shut him up about this.

Nonetheless, he resumes, “I was actually surprised about your first reaction after I told you. I thought you’d be mad about me for secretly getting married.”

“Oh, I was,” Sam says. “Really, I was hella pissed. But I didn’t want to yell at you over the phone and then I decided to just be happy for you. You deserve this, Dean. You deserve to have someone who loves and genuinely cares about you. You know, especially after how we grew up.”

“Shut up,” Dean mumbles, rubbing a hand over his head in embarrassment.

“You do,” Sam insists. “And I just wanted you to know that I’m cool. You might consider getting me an extra great Christmas present but I’m not mad. I mean, of course I would’ve liked to be at your wedding and I’m a little bit hurt that you didn’t ask me to be your best man but…we’re good. So, you don’t need to hold back. Act naturally around me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you and Cas can act like actual married people around me, not like acquaintances. Or does Cas think I have something against gay people?”

“I’m not following.”

“You can kiss him when I’m there. You can touch him when I’m there. You know, in appropriate places. Or is that another culture thing? Do Polish people not like to show affection?”

And now, Dean understands. After all the nervousness about getting caught up in their lies and trying to say the right thing, he and Cas completely forgot everything else about playing a married couple. They should know by now. It’s not like they haven’t done this before—just never around family.

“Oh, yeah. We didn’t want to drown you in lovey-dovey-ness but, now that we’ve got your blessing… We better buy you some earplugs on our way home. Cas can get very loud in the bedroom, among other places.”

“Ugh, Dean, gross!”

“You want it, you get it,” Dean says and shrugs his shoulders.

Sam laughs and shakes his head. “Seriously, though,” he says, “I’m happy for you. Cas seems like a good catch. I mean, a famous pianist, come on—who would’ve thought that?”

“Yeah,” Dean says. Sam doesn’t notice that his smile fades right before he brings the glass of coke to his lips. Until right this moment, Dean hadn’t even thought of how he’s going to break it to his little brother that he and Cas are getting a divorce, to convince him that he’s not heartbroken, that everything’s fine and that it was a mutual decision. Hopefully, Cas doesn’t grow too much on Sam.

 

When he gets home, Cas hears voices from the living room. He stayed longer than necessary at the studio tonight. To practice, he said. But he didn’t, not really. He prefers his own piano in his own home but today he was scared to go home.  Lying to his friends was surprisingly easy, but lying to Sam is something else. Cas knows how much Dean loves his brother and how bad he feels for not being honest with him about the nature of their marriage.

“Cas?” Dean shouts.

“Hello, Dean. Sam,” he says, briefly peeking around the corner, then, “I’m taking a shower.”

He already showered today but he doesn’t feel like joining the brothers in watching television. Soon, day one of Sam’s stay will be over anyway and there’s nothing that can go wrong during the night. At least, that’s what he hopes. Dean appears to have understood that they can’t get physical again. This would be a very, very bad idea considering tha—

“Dean, what the fuck!” He’s naked. Well, almost. He was just about to pull down his briefs when Dean appeared in the doorway.

“Cas, shh,” he says and shuts the door.

“Shh yourself. You can’t just walk in here when I’m undressing.”

“I can,” Dean says and moves closer. “This is my bedroom as well, remember?”

“But not really. And we’re not an actual couple who dances around each other naked all the time.”

“Relax, Cas. I didn’t see anything,” Dean says, his eyes flicking below his waistline for a second.

Cas sighs. “What do you want, Dean?”

“Sam thinks you don’t like him.”

“What, why? I was very polite. I even offered him a beer despite your weird drinking laws here.”

“You should work on that in case the DSS mentions it to you,” Dean says. “And Sam, he thinks you come off as a bit stiff, which I think you’re aware of, but he also said we weren’t acting like a couple, though, he thinks you think he’s a homophobe.”

“That’s not true. Did you tell him I said that?”

“No, Cas. I told him you’re just nervous about making a good impression. But we should probably try to make this more convincing, you know, like when we’re with Balt for instance.”

“I understand,” Cas says.

“Good.”

“May I shower now?”

“Yeah, sure, of course,” Dean says and Cas keeps an eye on him until he’s behind the closed door. Still, Cas waits to take off his underwear till he’s in the bathroom.

When he comes back out, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt now, Dean and Sam are both yelling at the TV.

“You’re watching Jeopardy?” Cas says. He takes a seat close to Dean on the sofa and lays an arm around his shoulders.

Dean gives him a look, surprised at first, then approving, and leans into him. Cas tries not to watch Sam for a reaction.

“Dean used to watch this show every night when we were younger,” Sam explains.

“Really?” It’s the first time he put it on in Cas’s house—as far as he knows.

“Dean loves quiz shows,” Sam says. “Didn’t you know that?”

“Actually, I didn’t,” Cas says, looking at Dean as he speaks.

“He was very good at guessing along. Today, you’re kinda weak, though,” Sam says.

“Well, I haven’t spent the past year training my brain at an Ivy League school,” Dean says, scrunching up his nose, adding, “cheater— _who is Jimmy Page!_ Man, how can you not know that?” Now he’s talking to the contestant who just got it wrong.

“Anyway,” he says then, “Sam was always better. I just knew more about music or movies. You could’ve won us a lot of money, kid, if the viewers at home could also compete.”

“That’s not entirely true, Dean,” Sam says. “You know a lot. You’re very smart.”

Dean squirms under Cas’s arm, making himself smaller.

“You know you are,” Sam insists.

Dean has stopped to yell answers, even those Cas is sure he knows. Sam doesn’t either but Cas notices that he watches his brother every time a new question—actually, a new answer in this case—appears on the screen.

“Dean, you knew that,” Sam points out after a while.

“Whatever,” Dean grumbles.

“What is it, Dean?” Cas asks.

“Nothing.”

“ _Dean.”_

“This is boring. How about we watch something else,” he says, groping for the remote.

“He’s embarrassed,” Sam blurts out. “Because he doesn’t think he’s smart.”

“Shut up, Sammy!” Dean hisses through gritted teeth.

“Sam is right,” Cas says. “You just took your GED and I know you, Dean. You’re a bright young man with his heart in the right place.” Then, he adds, “That’s why I married you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mumbles, “you both don’t need to smooth talk my shortcomings.”

“Was he always like that?” Cas says to Sam.

“Yes,” Sam says, “and apparently some things never change.”

“I get it, okay,” Dean interjects. “I lack self-esteem because my father gave me the feeling of being worthless, my brother is a genius and my husband a professional pianist.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest sits more upright. “What is Oregon, by the way.”

Sam and Cas laugh and Cas can’t resist to press a small kiss on the side of Dean’s head who in response turns beet-red.

When the show ends, Sam can’t hold back a yawn and Dean suggests calling it a night.

“Don’t forget the earplugs, Sammy!” Dean says before they head for their respective rooms, upon which Sam groans and rolls his eyes before disappearing in his room.

“What was that with the earplugs about earlier?” Cas asks after they’ve brushed their teeth next to each other in silence.

“Nothing,” Dean says, taking off his jeans. After changing into a different shirt, he adds, “I hope you don’t snore.”

“I was told I’m a very quiet sleeper,” Cas says and steps out of his sweatpants.

“By whom?” Dean asks but Cas thinks this doesn’t actually require an answer and gets rid of the T-shirt as well.

“Really?” Dean says.

“What?” Cas says, pulling back the covers.

“You’re sleeping like this?”

“Like what?” Cas asks and gets into bed.

“In your underwear.”

“I sense you’re having a problem with that,” Cas deadpans.

“He senses,” Dean says to himself, proceeding to get under the covers now as well.

“Do you think we were convincing enough tonight?” Cas says then.

“Yeah,” Dean breathes, “but keep it up.” He’s staring at the ceiling as he speaks.

“Good night, Dean,” Cas says and switches off the light.

“Good night, Cas.”

Cas finds it hard to fall asleep. He’s not used to having someone next to him at night. Dean’s breathing evened out a while ago, leaving Cas to be the only one awake. From time to time there are small noises coming from the other side of the bed, little snorts but no actual snoring.

Sometimes, he feels lonely. He has always been alone. He never knew what it’s like to have a sibling and now that he got to see Sam and Dean together, he kind of wishes he had.

Instead, Cas has always remained rather closed off, particularly since his mother died. Then Dean came along and got him to open up and Cas didn’t know how to deal with having someone entangled with his life and he overreacted the night after his audition. He’s lonely. And sad. Sad that he’s lonely and the last time this sadness was overwhelming, Dean happened to be there and Cas felt so unbelievably helpless and didn’t know what else to do.

Dean might be a friend now. But first and foremost he is a means to help him stay in this country and Dean knows that. He _should_ know that.

In the dark, he looks over to where he can feel Dean’s presence, before turning onto his side to face the other way and closes his eyes, once again attempting to fall asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

When Dean wakes up, he feels disoriented. The bed seems too big when he stretches his limbs and the bedding smells different. It smells like Cas.

The right side of the bed is empty when Dean opens his eyes. A small crack between door and frame reveals the lights are out in the bathroom so he definitely isn’t in there.

Despite his expectations, Dean slept like a baby. He’s used to sharing a room. He only ever had a space to himself when Sam moved out and the closet Gordon talked him into paying actual money for wasn’t what Dean had had in mind for his first own room.

Anyway, yesterday was an exciting day and Dean isn’t really surprised by how exhausted he was.

He finds a pair of his sweatpants in Cas’s ridiculously large closet to put on and walks out into the main room, finding Cas behind the kitchen counter.

“Morning,” he says, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Coffee?” Cas asks.

“Please.”

Cas sets a cup in front of him and after the first swallow starts to warm him from the inside, he says, “Sam up yet?”

“I believe I heard the shower earlier.”

Dean nods. “What you got there?”

Cas looks over his shoulder towards where Dean is gesturing and says, “I’m making scrambled eggs. Already did the scrambling.”

He turns around, lights the stove and drops a generous amount of butter into the pan.

“I can do more than open cans,” he says proudly, smiling back at Dean.

Right when Cas takes the pan off the flame, Sam comes walking in.

“Morning,” Dean says. “Sleep well?”

“I slept great. Finally a bed that’s long enough for me. I swear, those dorms were built for hobbits,” Sam says.

“I’m glad to hear that. Would you like some coffee?” Cas asks him.

“Uh, maybe a cup of tea if this isn’t too much trouble?”

“Tea it is,” Dean says and hops off the bar stool. “Cas also drinks a lot of tea so we’ve got plenty.”

Meanwhile, Cas has begun to portion the eggs onto plates. He moves for him when Dean opens the cabinet right in front of his head to retrieve a cup for Sam.

“Sam, I hope you’d like some eggs, too. I made them,” Cas says.

“You cooked?” Sam asks. Dean already told him that Cas’s lack of talent or motivation in the kitchen is hopeless and this is how the lie of Dean working as a cook for a rich man came to be.

“He did,” Dean says, grinning at Cas and waiting for the kettle to boil.

Cas smiles back at him. They’re already standing next to each other, but then Cas leans over and Dean is caught off guard when he kisses him. No, the most notable thing isn’t the kiss itself. They need to let Sam know that they’re an actual couple, affection and all. It’s the quality of the kiss. Not measuring the pressure or moistness or use of tongue—there is no tongue. It’s how soft yet firm it is and how long it lasts. Not long. Still, it’s much more than a quick peck. And Dean is confused.

When he gets back to being aware of his surroundings, Cas has moved on, putting the plates on the table and Dean notes they still need silverware so he opens the drawer he has been leaning against and takes out three forks.

“The tea,” Cas reminds him when everything’s set and Dean is about to sit at his usual spot.

“Oh, yes,” he murmurs and goes back to fill Sam’s cup. The memory of the kiss is playing in a loop in his mind. It’s strange, though. This wasn’t even their first kiss and not sincere at all, just show for Sam. Cas doesn’t seem to spare a second thought.

After breakfast, Dean finds him alone in his…their bedroom.

“What was it about with the kiss?” he says.

“I thought we agreed to make our devotion for each other believable for your brother,” Cas says nonchalantly.

“Well, yes…” Dean stumbles.

“So,” Cas resumes, boring gaze, “I reckoned a small kiss would only be a minor inconvenience considering what is at stake for both of us if Sam suspects anything.”

 _An inconvenience._ That’s what kissing Dean is to him. It didn’t seem to be much of an inconvenience when—

“Sure,” he says before finishing the thought. “Whatever. Don’t you worry, my brother’ll get out of your hair soon enough and so will I.”

He storms out of the room before Cas has the chance to reply but hears him sigh behind his back.

He’s already made tons of plans anyway on where to take his little brother today. There’s plenty of sightseeing to do, so there’s no time to argue with his fake husband about the display of their fake affection. And Cas is not invited to tag along.

The first stop on their tour is obviously the public library’s giant bookshelf. They spend almost an hour taking photos of their favorite works—and Dean definitely doesn’t have a hard time not sending Cas a picture of himself with _The Lord of the Rings_ in the background—until Sam thinks it’s time to actually educate themselves. As if they hadn’t had enough of this already and deserve a break. Yet, Dean is dragged to the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. Sam is happy, though, so coming here was absolutely worth it.

They conclude their trip with another hearty dinner and Dean only gets something to go for Cas because Sam insisted, not because he deserves it or anything.

“Cas, you home?” he shouts into the apartment. “Sam brought you a burger.”

Dean finds him sitting at the dining table, hands folded as if he’s praying. There’s an envelope in the middle of the glass top.

“Dean,” he says, all earnest. “Your GED results are here.”

He stops dead in his tracks causing Sam to bump into him.

“Man, what you’re waiting for?” Sam says, a hand on his shoulder. “You need to open it!”

Dean doesn’t move so Sam walks around him and drops the paper bag with Cas’s burger on the kitchen counter.

“Dean, open it,” he repeats, now two sets of eyes looking at him expectantly.

“Dean?” Now it’s Cas speaking.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean breathes and takes a few steps forward until he’s only three feet away from the table. His heart is racing.

He takes a deep inhale through his mouth. Then, he freezes.

After a tense minute, Cas says, “Do you want me to open it for you?”

“No!” Dean blurts out, louder than he’d intended to, and Cas withdraws as far as is possible sitting on his chair. He’s strangely reminded of when Sam got his acceptance letter from Stanford—only that his brother was much more eager to see what’s inside back then.

“I’ll do it,” he says, calmer this time.

He picks up the envelope and tears a hole into one corner but stops there. “What if I failed?” he asks.

“You didn’t,” Cas and Sam say in unison as if that’s a known fact.

Dean shakes his head and lets out a small whine. An array of scenarios flashes through his brain as he thinks of what’s going to happen if he actually did not pass. He doesn’t want either of them to be disappointed. Sam will probably encourage him to just try again. Cas will feel more superior to him than he already does. Dean’s failure will confirm that he married the dumbest fuck in America.

Dean clenches his teeth and rips it open. Everyone in the room appears to hold their breath as he unfolds the letter and reads.

After another nerve-racking moment, he lowers the papers in his hand. “I passed,” he says.

Sam makes a cheering nose and jumps to pull him into the tightest hug possible. “See! I told you! We told you!”

Cas has also risen to his feet, waiting patiently for Sam to let go again. When he does, Sam steps aside to make room for him and Cas comes to stand right in front of him.

“Congratulations, Dean,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

Dean looks down at his feet upon those words but can’t hold back a big grin.

“Thank you,” he says, catching Cas’s eye.

“Could you two be any less excited,” Sam huffs and rolls his eyes.

Cas gives Dean a questioning look and he knows exactly what it means. With a slight nod, too fleeting for Sam to notice, Dean encourages him to put some effort into their pretense and Cas leans forward to embrace him. After what seems to be an appropriate duration and an approving backrub, they pull apart, Cas sheepishly avoiding his gaze.

“Let’s celebrate,” Cas says, his voice calm though, and goes to get three beers from the fridge, not even sparing a thought to ask Sam if he wants one and he doesn’t seem to mind.

They drink and talk, Cas remaining rather quiet however, until Sam gets the idea that he should be taught something on the piano.

“Sam, no,” Dean says in a rather persuasive than denying tone.

“Why not?” he asks. “Come on, Cas. I’m sure there’s something I could learn in half an hour or so. I don’t expect any Mozart.”

Dean’s fingernails dig into his palms. He hopes Cas is letting him off lightly. There’s no way he’s going to let Sam’s unpracticed fingers touch his precious piano.

Cas seems to be smiling to himself, then he grabs his bottle and empties it in one long chug.

“Alright,” he says, suppressing a burp, and gets up from his chair, only to sit again by the piano and begins to play something very fast that can hardly be mastered in under an hour. A few years maybe.

Sam sits there, gaping. “Uh…” he says.

“Just kidding,” Cas says and gestures Sam to come over. So he does.

“Have you ever heard of the _Flea Waltz?”_

Sam shakes his head.

“No? It’s very easy. And a lot of fun to play. Even for me, after years of a professional career,” Cas says, then whispering but still loud enough for Dean to hear as well, “but don’t tell anyone I said that.”

“I won’t,” Sam says with a little chuckle. “Show me, please!”

What follows then is too much for Dean to keep it together. He would’ve paid good money to see this, had he known this was possible for Cas to put on. He looks like a parody of himself and it’s hilarious.

Dean almost falls off his chair from laughter as Cas patiently waits for Sam’s verdict.

“Awesome,” he says. “Please, teach me how to play this.”

“Of course,” Cas says, raising his brows at Dean who is wiping away tears. “Sit,” he says and moves to the left end of the bench to make room for Sam.

Again, he plays the first notes and then encourages Sam to repeat the melody.

“Is it common to use the black keys so much?” he asks then.

“Depends,” Cas says, steers Sam’s fingers to the right spot. “But this piece requires exceeding use of these, that’s true.”

Sam tries once more and then they move on to the next part.

It’s fascinating to watch, though. Sam is really concentrated, licking his lips every few seconds, and Cas shows a patience that Dean didn’t know he was capable of.

After going over it a couple of times, Sam asks, “Have you never taught Dean?”

“He never asked me to,” Cas says and, technically, it’s true. He would’ve liked to give it a try but he never found it in himself to admit that, considering how Cas reacted every time Dean came near the piano after he first got here.

“Never?” Sam says, looking at Dean, who, in response, clears his throat and announces he’s got to use the bathroom.

 

Sam likes him, he thinks. Which is great because Cas has become rather fond of him as well. On the other hand, this is rather unfortunate considering where he and his brother are headed relationship-wise and that he probably won’t ever see Sam again.

“Very good,” he tells Sam. He’s mastered the _Flea Waltz_ by now and Cas leaves him to it.

“You can try, if you want,” he says to Dean, joining him by the table from where he’s been keeping his distance.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says. “Let’s just hope he’s getting tired soon. Hearing this song in an endless loop is kinda annoying.”

Cas huffs a small laugh. “The joys of being a music teacher,” he says. Then, “I think this is going well.”

“I’d say he could use a few more lessons—preferably somewhere else.”

“No, I mean with us and Sam in the equation. Everything is going smoothly, in my opinion.”

“Sure,” Dean says crisply.

Cas lets out a sigh. “However, I’m going to retire to the bedroom. I’ll stay up reading for a while but make sure Sam won’t be playing all night.”

“Not if I’ve got anything to say about it,” Dean says and pushes himself from the table.

“Hey, Elton John, you’ve had enough fun for today. Time for bed.”

“You can’t make up a bedtime for me,” Sam moans. “I’m nineteen!”

“No, that I can’t,” Dean says, “but I can tell you when you’re getting on our nerves. So go brush your teeth and then do whatever—in your room.”

Sam sighs but complies anyway. “Thanks for teaching me, Cas,” he says on his way.

“Don’t mention it,” Cas says, “and don’t listen to your brother. We are glad to have you here.”

After washing up and changing into his sleepwear—including a shirt this time because obviously Dean felt uncomfortable with him going to bed in his underwear only—Cas settles against his pillows and opens the book from his nightstand at the marked page.

Dean does the same and the situation feels almost comical to him. They’re like an old married couple. It’s not unpleasant, though.

“I haven’t thanked you yet for the burger,” he says after a while, eyes getting droopy.

“It was Sam who suggested we bring something for you,” Dean says and closes his book.

Cas takes a breath, about to say something else but then decides against it. He wanted to mention how well he and Sam are getting along and that he’s going to miss him, given the circumstances, and that it might not have been a great idea to let him get so close to him.

Dean would probably just ridicule his concerns anyway. Cas is not _actual_ family. Sam doesn’t actually need to like him. And no-one will actually be sad when they divorce.

Moreover, when Sam is gone, there’ll be no more excuses to kiss Dean. Every other reason than to support their charade will be pathetic.

“What I said earlier today,” Cas says then, “it came out wrong. You’re not an inconvenience.”

Dean still avoids his eyes.

“You’re the reason I’m still here and got the chance to work with the people I am now.”

“Yeah,” Dean breathes out hoarsely, “one hand washes the other.”

“Dean, I want you to be my friend for as long as this lasts. We have to live with each other after all. I know we shouldn’t get too attached but so far this marriage has been going very well.” Then, hopeful, he asks, “So, friends?”

Dean shrugs. “Sure,” he says, “friends with benefits—but not the fun kind.” He laughs as they shake hands, which is weird enough considering they’re in bed with each other pretending there’s nothing unusual about this arrangement, and Cas lets out a grunt in response to Dean’s unnecessary comment.

A really tiny voice in his head dares him to just pull at Dean’s hand, pull him right into him and smash their lips together, to feel Dean’s stubble under his fingertips, like he’s done before, and to throw all reason and caution overboard.

But he doesn’t. He could never. This might be a game for Dean, a fun way to pass time, but Cas doesn’t do anything half-heartedly. If he lets himself go now, this will only result in heartbreak.

Cas lets go, clenching his hand into a fist as if to pretend Dean’s touch still lasts.

“Did you sleep well last night?” he says. “I didn’t ask.”

“Yeah, you’re an okay bedfellow,” Dean says and the word causes him a slight shiver. _Bedfellow._

“Then I hope I continue to be,” Cas says, reaching for the light switch. “Good night.”

When the day of Sam’s departure comes, Cas is both glad to have met him and saddened to see him go for good. In another life, where he and Dean are actually together, they could’ve become actual friends, real brothers-in-law. Whatever happens between them, Cas wishes to someday find out what became of Sam. If he ever got to be a lawyer, if he’s still with his girlfriend Jessica or if there’s someone else. If he and Dean still get along so well and see each other regularly.

That night, however, when it’s just the two of them again, Cas almost dares to hope that Dean chooses to stay with him, in his bed, for whatever reason. Of course he doesn’t. What would even be the point of this sexless bed-sharing for Dean? And Cas would never let anything happen. Not with the certainty that Dean will be gone soon enough afterwards.

Thus, everything goes back to normal, Dean and Cas sleeping in separate rooms and going about their lives as if nothing had changed, which, to Dean at least, it probably hasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the pining begin!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your kudos/comments so far - very much appreciated :D
> 
> ...and I hope posting this chapter works. My internet is so excruciatingly slow right now.

After his success with the GED— _success!_ That’s a word Dean hasn’t ever used to describe something he did—Dean thought: why stop there, why stop now? His life won’t ever be as easy as it is now. Sure, there’s this ever-looming threat of prison if someone were to find out that he only married Cas for him to gain permanent residence…but apart from that things are going well. He has a roof over his head and a nice one so. He isn’t starving despite his job as a waiter paying him minimum wage and, most importantly, he didn’t have to come crawling back into his father’s house.

Therefore, he decided to take a shot at some community college classes. He’s still unsure about what to do with his life which is why he’s now studying all kinds of subjects. He loves history and literature and all that but his favorite so far is woodworking. Apparently, he hasn’t forgotten everything he learned in school, but that’s hardly the reason he has become somewhat of a teacher’s pet. He’s good and he knows it and Pamela, the course instructor, does too.

“Soon enough you can go applying for some really good jobs,” she says. “You’ll gain experience and some day you might even open your own business.”

“Why’re always flattering me?” Dean says, laughing, as he washes his hands after class. “You know I’m a married man.”

It’s become kind of natural now, calling Cas his husband. He needn’t to. He needn’t mention to his classmates or his teacher that he’s married. He wouldn’t actually worry about leading Pam on. They tease each other but she’s not really into him—he’s smart enough to realize that.

 _My husband_ just has a nice ring to it, even though it entails a web of lies. _My husband._ It sounds so adult.

“Acknowledging your skills doesn’t mean I wanna get in your pants,” she says, storing away a heavy toolbox.  Dean has only ever seen her wear tank tops and he kinda gets why. His breath catches in his throat every time her arm muscles flex. They are also the reason some guys in class are intimidated by her. They better be.

On their first day, some of them made snide comments about their instructor being a woman. Like, ‘this isn’t sewing class,’ those sorts of things. Pamela shut them up pretty quickly, though. One of them quit after this first day, the others have come around and gotten to realize that they’re lucky to have Pam teach them. And Dean is lucky to have found a friend in her.

“You should bring your man around some day, show him what we’re doing here,” she tells him.

“Yeah, maybe, though I don’t think he’d take much interest.” Cas has been asking about woodworking class every now and then but he’s probably just glad to get him out of the house a bit more and making friends of his own.

“Aw, don’t give him too much credit,” she says sarcastically. “Then we’ll just have some beers together. I’ll bring someone, too.”

“Who? Jesse?” Dean snorts at his own joke.

“I really should get that tattoo covered up, shouldn’t I?” she sighs.

“Surprise me then. Anyway, speaking of Cas, I gotta go get him.”

Cas’s car broke down yesterday and as long as it’s in the garage, Dean has to chauffeur him around. His group is having rehearsal at Kauffmann Center for the upcoming release party of their first record and Dean is supposed to pick him up at six.

Traffic is low tonight, so Dean arrives earlier than anticipated. Cas was to meet him in the car but with so much time on his hands, Dean decides to greet him inside. He might even run into Balthazar there. They’ve seen each other a couple of times every now and then and Dean has warmed up to him. There’s no way they’re gonna be besties but Balt’s humor and eccentric character and the way he’s treating Cas—friendly and kind, but also calling him out on his bullshit—have made him someone he wouldn’t wanna miss from his life.

It’s raining a little today but not enough for Dean to get wet on his way to the entrance. The grey sky still casts enough light inside the glass-covered hall, though a few lamps are already lit.

Dean doesn’t know in which room exactly Cas is and he’s not going to look for him. Cas wouldn’t like him snooping around.

There’s hardly anyone here. He can hear a few voices from down a hallway but when their owners emerge, Dean sees they belong to two girls, ballerinas, in thick sweaters and leggings, sharing a pair of earphones and giggling over whatever they see on the smartphone screen. They don’t even seem to notice him.

Dean glances at his watch to see he’s still twenty minutes early, given that Cas finishes on time. He can’t help but wander around a little. The building is huge and to his surprise there isn’t anyone else around to shut down his curiosity. He goes deeper, down gradually darker hallways and he’s now certain that he isn’t supposed to be here. If he gets lost and Cas has to come and get him, he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Fucking shit,” a yell stops him dead in his tracks, followed by a hiss, obviously caused by pain. “Damn it.”

The voice is coming from the light end of the hallway so Dean decides it’s something he should look into. Someone might be hurt.

This someone turns out to be Cain. Dean hasn’t seen him since Balt’s matinee but he clearly remembers the obdurate gray hair, the overall fierce look. Yet he was willing to show Dean and Cas around and it was Balthazar who made him do that—a guy who Dean can imagine other people would easily find infuriating.

“Do you need help with anything?” Dean asks. Cain, who’s sucking at his thumbnail, only notices him now.

“This area is staff only,” Cain says after briefly looking up. There’s a long cardboard box wedged between wall and ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Dean says, “I didn’t mean to… I was just—”

“Aren’t you Balthazar’s friend?” Cain interrupts.

“Yes, Dean. Hi,” he says, reaching out a hand. Cain grabs it with his left, still sucking on the right.

“What’re doing here, Dean?” He’s saying this without reproach.

“I’m here to pick up my husband, actually, but I got here too early and then…I don’t know, I started wandering off, I guess. Again, I’m sorry. I know I’m not supposed to be here.”

“It’s alright,” Cain says, finally letting go of his thumb. “I think I can make an exception for you.”

“Can I maybe give you a hand with anything while I’m here?” Dean offers.

“Actually,” Cain starts and looks at the box, “yes, you could.”

Dean rubs his hands together. “Sure.”

Cain doesn’t need to give him any instructions for Dean to know what he wants him to do and together they carry the box inside the workshop. It’s heavy but Dean reckons Cain is used to lift those weights on his own. The only issue was the size of the box.

“Are you the only one still around?” Dean asks.

“Always,” Cain says and huffs a laugh, then, “No, but one of my workers just moved away because his wife got a new job in Boston and Ellen sprained her wrist last week so I’m currently low on staff.”

“I could help out for a while, if you want,” Dean says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You?” Dean has obviously piqued his interest. They’ve talked a lot the last time he was here and Cain seemed kinda impressed back then.

“I’ve been taking woodworking classes and I’m sure I could assist you pretty well.” He’s not sure where his confidence is coming from right now but he wants this job, even if it’s only temporary and he won’t get paid.

“Who’s been teaching you?” Cain asks with a raised eyebrow. Dean’s got him hooked, he’s certain.

“Pamela Barnes. You know her?”

The corners of Cain’s mouth curl up slightly. “Pamela Barnes,” he repeats. “Is that so?”

“So you two know each other?”

“We’re acquainted,” is the only thing he says but his words imply there’s a story there and Dean will not let Pam rest until she tells it to him.

“So, what’re you saying?”

“I’ll talk to her,” Cain says. “But you can leave your phone number.” He rips off a piece of cardboard lying around and hands Dean a sharpie to write with.

“Cool, thanks”, he says and gives him the pen back. “It was nice meeting you again, Cain. Anyway, I think I should go and find my husband now.”

Cain hints at a promise to get in touch and Dean quickly gets through the labyrinth of hallways, back to the foyer, just in time for Cas joining him there.

Cas’s eyes light up when he sees him. They’ve been doing this a lot lately. Cas has been smiling more in the past month than in the first half year of their marriage. It’s surely because Cas has a regular engagement again. He’ll be back on stage soon and Dean knows how much he’s missed this. It’s so good to finally see him happy and self-assured. Cas is a professional and Dean never doubted his potential to make a comeback.

“Hello Dean,” he says, kinda cheerful so Dean deduces the rehearsal must’ve gone well, and gives him a one-armed hug.

“Hey,” Dean says, returning Cas’s smile.

Dean’s been thinking about how they kissed for pretense. They haven’t done this since Sam was here but Dean has been thinking about it many times, still.

There is no reason for them to kiss now, of course. Balt and Rowena bought their story without any mouth-to-mouth action involved. They seemed impressed even that Cas would go as far as touching anyone simply for the intimacy of it, their ice prince, though people who don’t know Cas, like Sam, might need more to convince them. The DSS didn’t. Kissing would only have made them suspicious. _Look how in love we are, we can’t take our hands off each other and smooch like teenagers all day long._

The thing is, however, as much as their sham doesn’t require kissing anymore—Pam won’t need that either, were Dean to ever introduce her to Cas—Dean wants to. He wants to kiss Cas. Not once. Not twice. He wants to kiss him just for reasons of indulgence and see where they go from there. This isn’t because he’s horny, he’s almost certain. This isn’t about sex. He wants Cas to be close to him. He likes Cas, very much. They’re good friends. They’re best friends, probably. They’re the only ones who know their secret and who they can be completely honest with. They’re partners in crime. Literally.

“How was it?” Dean asks.

“Good,” Cas says, “I can’t wait for everyone to hear us. I can’t wait to perform in front of an audience again.”

Dean smiles softly at him. “Looking forward to it,” he says.

“How was your day today?” Cas asks after they’ve started walking.

“Class was fun. I learned a lot again.”

“That’s good,” Cas says.

Dean wants so much to lay his arm around Cas’s waist or to take his hand. He imagines them rushing to the car—it’s raining again—panting, smoothing back their wet hair, the windows fogging up. Dean turns the key in the ignition and switches on the heating.

“Are you cold?” he says.

“A little,” Cas replies and Dean takes his icicle hands to warm them between his, blowing warm air on them. Rain is drumming on the roof. The engine is chugging. Cas is staring at him, their joined hands. Dean pulls slightly. He leans over the bench and kisses him.

The flap of Cas’s umbrella unfolding loudly yanks him back to the present.

“If we run, we won’t both get as wet under here,” Cas says.

“Don’t worry about me,” Dean declines. “I’ve got it,” he says and pulls the back of his jacket over his head.

 

“Next week,” Linda says as she closes her violin case.

“I know,” Cas says and lets out a small laugh. “I am excited.”

“But in a good way, right?” she says. “You’re not secretly throwing away your nerves, are you?”

His smile doesn’t fade. Cas knows she doesn’t mean it like that. They all rely on each other. “No,” he says. “I’m doing great. It’s been too long since I’ve been out there.”

“That’s good to hear,” Linda says. “See you for our final rehearsal then. Bye, Castiel.”

“Bye. See you soon.”

If he’s being honest, he’s ready now. There’s no need to wait. If Billie or Miss Talbot would snap their fingers and tell him to go out on stage now, he wouldn’t even flinch a bit. He’s never been so ready for something in his life.

The only thing he regrets—and he feels like an asshole for thinking this way—is that he owes this to team effort. He’s used to being in the spotlight alone. He’s a soloist. He sometimes wishes the circumstances of his comeback were different. Is it even a full comeback if he’s only part of an ensemble?

He’s the worst, really. Linda gave him this chance and he took it without a second thought and he succeeded without her involvement, but then again, without her, there wouldn’t have been an audition in the first place and Cas wouldn’t be a part of this group now. He doesn’t think he’s better than anyone else, it’s not like that. Linda sure is an excellent violinist and Kelvin has been a soloist with his cello on multiple occasions and every member of their small group has been carefully selected, evaluated by Billie with her expertise. He’s not special around here.

And it’s fun. He’s enjoying himself. These are decent, talented people and Cas is getting paid to do what he loves most in the world.

Dean is waiting in the foyer for him. It’s nice to have someone to pick you up. Dean seems to have had a fine day as well, being in a good mood and all. He doesn’t talk much, though, while they’re headed for the exit, but Cas doesn’t mind. Cas likes the quiet and Dean is someone he doesn’t feel obligated to talk around.

It’s pouring outside and Cas is glad to have an umbrella with him. Getting both of them under it will require closeness, something Cas has been aching for for weeks. He waits for Dean to hook his arm under his, but, to his disappointment, Dean says he’s good. Of course, he’s soaking wet when they get to the Impala and the keys slip from his fingers as he tries to start the engine.

“I hope you don’t catch a cold,” Cas says.

“I won’t,” Dean grumbles.

“The release party is next week,” Cas says.

“I won’t miss it.”

They’ve talked about how important it is for them to be seen together there, although it also means everything to Cas for Dean to show up for his big day, regardless of what it means for their story.

It’s their first formal event as a couple…a fake couple, though the _fake_ slips from his mind more and more often and he has to mentally chastise himself for every time he forgets. He doesn’t _actually_ forget that their relationship is a fraud, though he would like to sometimes. He would like to pretend, not for anyone’s viewing pleasure for once, but for himself. Forget and pretend that Dean sees more than a friend in him. That Dean wants this to be real as well. Cas does want this to be real. He wants to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him that he doesn’t want this to end, ever. He wants Dean to stay with him, like a real husband, or a boyfriend who he happens to be legally married to, at least.

He can’t. Dean doesn’t feel the same way.

It’s idiotic to have fallen for Dean so hard but he can’t alter his feelings about him, no matter how hard he tries. He has to keep it together, though, occupy his mind with more important things like the thin thread his musical career is hanging on to. He can’t fuck up this time and he won’t.

Dean’s lips are trembling and Cas turns up the heating without saying a word. Dean lets him. He would never admit that he’s the one freezing, Cas knows, yet they can silently agree on Cas being cold and therefore turning up the heating was totally fine and not uncalled for.

Also, Cas has accepted Dean’s choice of music. He actually kind of likes it sometimes. They are good songs and Dean sometimes murmurs absently, quietly singing along with the lyrics. He probably sings aloud when Cas is not there but he wouldn’t mind. Cas isn’t much of a singer himself. Yet, he would love to hear Dean sing. They could do their worst together. But Cas doesn’t even know the lyrics. And Dean wouldn’t enjoy this anyway. He’s very protective of his music and so is Cas. One thing they have in common.

A faint, rosy blush appears on Dean’s cheeks after a while and Cas is glad to see he’s warming up. Dean has been taking care so much of him throughout their marriage and Cas wants to do the same for him.

After getting out of his wet clothes and a hot shower, Dean is cuddled up on the sofa under a blanket and Cas suggests they finally watch _The Lord of the Rings._

They’re sitting a few feet apart and the presence of Dean’s warm body is calling him to come closer like the Ring is calling Frodo to use it.

Cas stays strong.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean is wearing a smoking that basically screams James Bond and despite never having looked this cool in his life before, he feels anxious. There are so many posh people and all his insecurities press down on him, making it hard for him to stay upright, to straighten his back instead of crouching.

Rowena comes to his rescue. “Dean, dear,” she says and drops air kisses on both his cheeks.

She’s dressed in a dark green gown, her sparkly eye-shadow dramatic as always.

“What a dapper young fella you are! Look at you! Might snatch you away from our Castiel.”

“You look great, too, Rowena. Awesome dress.”

“Thank you,” she murmurs, turns and looks smugly over her shoulder when Dean gets a full view of her bare back.

“I hope the dress wasn’t expensive. It’s missing a bit of fabric in the back.”

“Aw, stop it!” she says and slaps him lightly in the chest.

Dean laughs. “No really, you’re stunning.”

Then, it’s time to say what’s actually on his mind. “Have you seen Cas yet?”

His colleague Linda picked him up earlier so they wouldn’t have to go home in separate cars and Dean took the Impala to Kauffman Center on his own.

“I’m afraid the star of the night is hiding,” Rowena says.

“He’s not _the_ star… Is he?” Dean thought he was nervous for him before but now he’s terrified.

“Not actually, no, though he’s got history, as you know, and probably…maybe someone might be curious if he will be triumphant in his comeback.”

Dean’s eyes got bigger at every word she just said.

“ _However,”_ Rowena continues, “this is the release of a group’s album, not Castiel’s. It not all up to him tonight. Don’t worry too much about your husband. It will all turn out fine.”

“You’re not very convincing,” Dean says and watches the crowd nervously. Billie is here, of course she is. He looks away quickly, hoping he hasn’t been caught staring.

“How long until it starts?” he asks.

“About twenty minutes,” Rowena says, “but let’s wait for Balthazar out here.”

“Speak of the devil,” Dean sighs. He’s not in the mood for Balt’s…everything tonight.

“Darlings, what’s with the long faces?” Balt says and hugs them both at once. “This is a happy occasion. Our Cassie is returning to the stage.”

He ushers them slowly towards the concert hall and Dean is sat in the middle between them. Balt hands him a program and cheerfully points out Cas’s name to him.

_Piano: Cas Novak._

It’s simple, the design, everything. A list of pieces they’re going to play. Dean knows all of them. The pianist’s part at least. He never tried to find the music on the internet. He was afraid he’d compare someone else’s performance to Cas’s. He was afraid he’d deem Cas’s performance inferior. He’s no expert, not at all, but he can still have an opinion and he wants his only opinion to be that Cas is the best, because he is.

Billie wrote a few lines on the selected pieces, leaves praises for the musicians, a few thank you notes to people from the industry.

The lights in the auditorium are dimmed and the audience quietens a bit as the first musicians enter the stage. One of the Chinese women, the one with the violin, he knows is Linda, though they haven’t officially met yet.

Last, but definitely not least, Cas comes out and someone on the back woos and Dean’s heart warms.

Dean watches his every move. He looks stern but kinda relaxed, like he’s enjoying himself. Good.

Rowena and Balt each hold one of his hands, squeezing, and Dean can feel that they’re holding their breaths. So is he. Not because he’s anxious for Cas any longer, but because he looks stunning. The way his brow is arched, lips unmoving. His hair is a bit messed up as if he’s been running a hand through it, like he tends to when he’s thinking. It suits him.

One after another, they’re letting go of Dean’s hands and lean back into their seats, enjoying the music. Dean, too, can get behind why someone would make such a big deal of an event like this, but he’s too preoccupied with having his eyes fixed on Cas, rather than listening to the concert.

He’s so glad for him to be back performing and Cas obviously has a good time. As the show goes on, Dean detects a hint of a smile every now and then when they get to what Dean knows are Cas’s favorite parts. He’s played them over and over at home, even though he had already perfected them.

The audience claps tamely after the end of every piece, but that’s just the way it’s supposed to be. Then there’s an intermission and Rowena has to basically rip him from his chair. He wants this to be over. He wants to see Cas someplace else than on stage.

The break only lasts briefly anyway, and Dean is confused that Cas is not with the returning musicians. Scared, he casts Rowena a look but she leans over and, whispering, explains there’s no piano in this one.

For the grand finale, however, Cas is back and starts with a solo. Dean is filled with awe at the sight of him. Cas is putting so much passion into his performance and for a second Dean forgets he’s not the only one here, that Cas is not playing for Dean alone, although it’s something he wishes for more than ever.

He’s so beautiful and Dean has entered dangerous territory.

Before he even realizes it, the show is over and after a moment of awestruck silence, the crowd erupts in fiery applause. It takes Dean a while for his brain to catch up but when it does, he springs from his chair, clapping his hands like his life depends on it. From the corner of his eye he notes Rowena and Balt rising to their feet as well and when he eventually dares to glance over his shoulder, almost everyone in the audience is giving them standing ovations.

Balt pulls him to the side with one arm, smacking a kiss on the side of his head. Annoyed as he might be in a normal situation, Dean’s reply now is big smile. He’s just so happy and he’s glad to see Balt and Rowena feel the same way for Cas.

Dean is itching to jump over people as they are filing out of the auditorium, achingly slow. He wants to see Cas. _Cas, Cas, Cas!_

Outside in the hall there have been pub tables with white cloths set up in front of another small stage. Waiters are filling trays with champagne glasses.

Balt rushes to reserve them a table and Dean is only moving towards it because Rowena keeps pushing him. Cas is still nowhere to be seen.

“Patience, my dear,” Rowena says. “He just played a concert. He’s probably all sweaty and filthy anyway. Give him a moment to come down.”

Balthazar’s contribution to the conversation is to place champagne in front of each of them.

After some time, a man asks for everybody’s attention and introduces Billie to the stage. She thanks everyone for coming and says a few words about how this album came to be—basically what she wrote in the program. Then she welcomes the musicians on stage, everyone mentioned by their name, Cas last again and now Dean is the one who can’t stop himself from wooing. Cas’s eyes search the crowd for him and they seem to sparkle when he finally sees him, though that’s probably just the spotlights.

Then, another woman in a long, scarlet dress gets to speak a few words of her own. “Bela Talbot,” Balthazar whispers in his hear, “she’s the boss around here.”

More thank yous, honored to have such talented people playing the house tonight, blabla…

With a toast to everyone involved, Cas is released from stage and Dean almost breaks his glass, quickly as he puts it down, and hurries to get to Cas.

He’s talking to Linda when he finds him but Cas appears to excuse himself as soon as he spots Dean and Dean tries his best not to actually run as he leaps forward, arms open.

“You were great”, Dean says after they smash into each other, chest against chest. “Cas, you were so awesome!”

“I’m glad you’re here, Dean,” Cas says.

“Where else would I be?” Dean says. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

“Thank you,” Cas says, modesty in his voice.

Dean pulls back slightly so he can have a look at him. “I’m so proud of you,” he says with sincerity.

Sheepishly, Cas lowers his gaze.

“Look at me,” Dean says and he does, “you were great.”

“So I’ve heard,” Cas says, smirking, and Dean pulls him close once again, a hand at the back of Cas’s head.

“Balthazar seems to be waiting,” Cas says then and when Dean turns to look he sees him waving enthusiastically, urging them to finally come over.

At their table, Cas receives another round of hugs and compliments. Balt asks how he’s feeling and Cas says he’s relieved to have the crucial part behind him. They talk for a while—Dean isn’t even listening properly, only has eyes for Cas—until Rowena is greeted by Linda and the conversation slowly fades out.

“Linda, darling, you were fabulous tonight,” she says.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. And that it’s over. I always have such serious stage fright right before a premiere.”

“You didn’t show at all, had your professional poker face on—really, I couldn’t tell what’s been going on inside you besides being focused on the music.”

Linda laughs. “Well, the anxiety usually drops the moment I play the first note.”

“I know what you mean,” Rowena says.

“So, excuse me Rowena, but I have to admit curiosity drew me here as well,” she says, turning to Cas and Dean as she speaks. “Castiel, is this the husband I’ve been hearing about?”

Dean’s eyebrows lift up and he says, “You’ve been mentioning me?”

Cas ignores his comment. “Yes, Linda, please meet my husband, Dean. Dean, this is Linda Tran who I’ve been telling you so much about and who I owe this great opportunity to.”

“Aw, Cas, now you’re exaggerating. This was all you, your effort and talent,” Linda says. “Anyway, it’s very nice to meet you, Dean.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Dean says and shakes her hand. “I hope Cas has only told you nice things about me.”

“Only the best,” she says and winks at him.

The small talk goes on for a bit until Linda moves on to another group. They lose Balthazar shortly afterwards but when someone dressed in blood-red approaches them, Dean knows why.

“Mr. Novak,” Bela Talbot says, reaching out a delicate arm, diamonds blinking on her wrist. Now Dean understands why Balthazar bolted. He already isn’t much of a fan of hers either.

“Ms. Talbot,” Cas says, miming a kiss on her hand and Dean pukes internally, “to what do I owe the honor?”

Ms. Talbot lets out a fake laugh. “Mr. Novak, please, you know why. You’re the reason everyone came here tonight. Everyone was curious to see what has become of you, whether you’d succeed or…else.”

Dean hates her.

“I’m hardly of more interest than any other member of our group,” Cas says. “This evening, our album wouldn’t have come to be without the contribution of each and everyone involved. We are all passionate about art and devoted to our work.”

“I disagree,” Ms. Talbot says. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d ask me to dance with you. We can continue our discussion then.”

Dean thinks of what Cas could possibly say to dismiss her while still being polite. Instead he says, “Very well,” and offers her an arm for her to hook hers under and off they go.

There’s some jazzy background music and the tables are arranged around a rectangular space right in front of the stage. Two couples—at least one of those people belongs to Balthazar’s company—are dancing there already.

“Well,” Rowena says, “I’m certainly not gonna watch.” She lifts up her chin and casts Dean an expectant look.

“Alright, fine” he sighs and leads Rowena over to the dance floor.

Despite her vertiginously high heels, she’s till tiny compared to him and Dean isn’t a very experienced dancer (read: the last time he’s done this was at Junior Prom).

“Just relax and sway a little,” she says, “move your weight from one leg to the other.”

“I’ve got this,” Dean says through gritted teeth. He’s torn between watching what his feet are doing and keeping an eye on Cas and Ms. Talbot. He hopes Cas isn’t suffering too much.

“He seems much happier now, you know,” Rowena says, having noticed where Dean keeps looking.

“Compared to when?” Dean asks.

“It was a real surprise when he first told us about you, obviously. Cas isn’t one to open up easily and show real emotion. He can, when he’s playing, but not on an interpersonal level. After he married you, he changed. He isn’t as reserved as he used to be and he just seems to be content with his life. Before, he was restless. He was here, in America, but he hadn’t yet arrived. With you, I think, he finally found a home.”

Dean shakes his head. “Rowena, I don’t think that’s—”

“No, listen to me. You’re good for him. I can see how he thrives under your love. I’m thankful he has you.”

Her words have him all choked up. If only she knew… If only she knew that this is all a lie, that Cas is happier now because he didn’t get deported and has got a real job again.

He bites down on his lip and, voice rough, presses out, “Thank you, Rowena. I appreciate it.”

There’s no point in arguing. Not without telling her the truth.

“Mind if I borrow my husband for the next song,” Cas says suddenly. He and Balthazar are standing next to them, waiting for Dean and Rowena to change partners.

“Of course, my dear,” Rowena says and lets go of him in favor of Balthazar.

Cas takes her place in Dean’s arms and smiles at him.

“Are you glad you got away from her?” Dean says.

“That woman’s a nightmare,” Cas says, voice low. “I’m already much better now.”

“Same,” Dean says and subconsciously pulls Cas closer.

“How are you feeling, now that it’s done?” Dean asks then.

“Good,” Cas says, “pretty great, actually. I know I’ll still have to work on myself constantly, but for the time being, I’m feeling at ease.”

“You seemed to enjoy yourself up on that stage. I could tell you were having a good time.”

“I was. And I’m glad you were there to see it.”

“You already said that.”

“I mean it, Dean. Thank you so much for your support, for everything.” Cas is looking him deep in the eye and Dean is at loss for a reply. He wishes he could just kiss Cas, right here, that’d be more than words could ever say.

Instead, he leans his head forward, against the side of Cas’s and lets lose, swaying like Rowena told him, and feels the weight of Cas’s head drop against him as well. This is good, this is allowed. If Cas asked him about it, he’d say he’s acting like a real husband would do. Everyone knows Cas has a hard time behind him and what else would Dean do than soothe him, hold him, show his love.

But Cas isn’t protesting anyway. All the weight that must have dropped from his shoulders tonight—he must be exhausted.

They stay like this for quite a long while. Unfortunately, Dean has to let go eventually and some people still want to talk to Cas but he doesn’t seem very motivated to socially engage either and it has been a long day after all, a lot of pressure, and Dean is glad when Cas says he wants to go home.

Cas briefly falls asleep on the car ride but wakes up again before they get to their apartment building.

“I gotta admit, I had fun tonight,” Dean says after the door closes behind them.

“Me too,” Cas says, a soft smile on his face.

Dean doesn’t want this night to end yet, though he doesn’t know how to put it into words.

“I think we were very convincing tonight,” he says.

“Convincing,” Cas repeats, but not as a question.

“Yes… I mean, you know, as a married couple. The dancing and, uh, everything.”

“Hm,” Cas says.

Dean takes a deep breath before he resumes, his heart racing. “I was thinking, maybe we could keep on pretending, just for tonight.” He takes a step closer towards Cas.

“Pretend?” Cas says.

“Yes,” Dean breathes, his lips ever so lightly touching Cas’s, testing the waters.

 

 _Pretending._ That’s what this is for Dean. They’re pretending—to be a couple, to be in love.

Cas has long stopped pretending. Except, if pretense is all he can get from Dean, then so be it, if only for tonight.

With a long sigh, he leans into Dean to kiss him properly.

 _Three, two, one._ Just for tonight, no holding back, no second thoughts. Just this.

Dean is pulling at his collar, keeping him in place but at the same time trying to get him closer. Cas is running his fingers through Dean’s hair at the sides of his head. Dean is fidgeting with his tie, opens it, drops it somewhere, Cas doesn’t care. He can feel the smooth surface of Dean’s ring as he gently strokes his hand along the side of his neck.

“Dean,” he rasps, bringing only an inch of distance between their mouths.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs and kisses him again before Cas can say more.

Cas pulls back once again. He grabs Dean’s hand and proceeds to drag him towards his bedroom. _Their_ bedroom.

They come to a halt at the foot end of the bed, drawn back together, and Cas shoves Dean’s jacket over his shoulders, then wriggles out of the sleeves of his own jacket behind his back, trying not to leave Dean’s lips as he does so. Dean helps, steading Cas’s head with a hand at the back of his head, pulling at Cas’s jacket with the other.

When his arms are finally free again, his hands find Dean’s tie in a swift, urgent move, unhooking it and quickly moving on to his shirt buttons. Dean follows his example and gets to work at Cas’s shirt.

“Wait,” Dean says then, panting, Cas chasing the warmth of his lips. “I’ll be right back. Just a second,” and off he goes, leaving Cas alone in the room.

He slips out of his shirt and hangs it over a chair, as well as the jacket. He goes to the bathroom and washes his hands and face, and after taking brief sniff, freshens up under his arms as well.

“Cas?” he hears Dean’s voice from the bedroom.

“I’m here,” he says and steps back out.

Dean is holding a lube bottle in one hand, a condom in the other. “I thought, just in case,” he says, blushing, “we don’t need to use these if you don’t feel like it. It’s okay if we just… I’ll just leave these here,” he says and places the items on the bed.

He’s not wearing his shirt anymore as well, a perfect invitation for Cas to get his hands on him again.

The skin of Dean’s back is smooth, freckles dot his shoulders, and Cas digs his fingertips into the flesh. Dean mouths at his jaw, kisses his throat, all the while Cas explores his bare torso with his hands.

Dean’s long, soft fingers find their way onto his chest, thumbing at his nipples, prompting Cas to move things along. He slides his hand down along Dean’s spine until they reach the waistband of his pants and grabs two hands full of ass before reaching around to the front to open the button. Then, Cas shoves a flat hand inside to feel Dean being hard under the fabric of his boxer briefs. Dean responds with a strangled gasp.

“ _Caaas,”_ he moans, “I need to…I need to speed this up a bit.”

He takes a step behind and quickly pulls down pants and underwear and discards them along with the socks.

Cas’s heart skips a beat as he sees him standing there, naked, before getting an even better view from behind as Dean moves onto the bed. Quickly, Cas strips as well and follows Dean, sitting on his legs.

“Come to me,” Cas says and Dean obliges, setting one knee at each side of Cas’s legs.

They kiss again, slowly, deeply. Cas is grasping at Dean’s thigh, gradually moving upwards but refraining from touching him elsewhere below the waistline.

Then, Dean withdraws and moves Cas’s hand away from his thigh, gently pulling it up and with his eyes, Cas’s gaze follows his own hand in wonder, all the way to Dean’s pink, lush lips, sucking in two fingers. His spine tingles with excitement. Dean looks so beautiful, twirling his tongue around his fingers, drawing them in with his mouth.

Cas is in a trance-like state, amazed by what he’s currently watching, so he hasn’t even registered Dean getting ahold of the lube.

Carefully, he draws back his hand, stroking his wet fingers along Dean’s cheek and jaw and pulls him into another kiss.

When Cas opens his eyes again, Dean squirts lube some on his fingers and reaches around himself. Dean’s breath hitches, pupils dilating more than they already have and he draws his bottom lip between his teeth when, so Cas assumes, he breaches his rim, his cheeks and ears flushing.

“Let me, please,” Cas says and picks up the lube to slicken his own fingers that Dean has been so hungrily devouring.

Already reaching around but stopping right before touching him, Cas says, “May I?” and Dean gives him an encouraging nod.

Dean removes his fingers to make room for Cas’s and Cas feels him clench at first but then relax into the touch. He’s warm. So unbelievably warm and he can only imagine now how it must feel for his cock to be embraced by this warmth. Patience, though. They’re going there, Dean seems eager.

Dean leans forward, holding onto Cas’s shoulders, thrusting out his ass to give Cas better access, or to get a better angle, it doesn’t matter. Cas is fucking him with his fingers, trying to give his prostate some attention, but not too much, because this isn’t over yet.

He pulls out. “Dean,” he says, catching his eye. “What do you want?”

Dean shifts his weight back onto his legs and unwraps the condom. He gives Cas’s cock a few pumps with his free hand and rolls the condom onto it, applying some more lube. Then, he straightens up, moves slightly, and guides himself onto Cas’s hard cock.

And how amazing this feels! Dean is so hot inside, taking him all in. He’s so beautiful, letting out a long exhale through his nose, grasping at Cas’s back, fingernails digging into his skin without being unpleasant.

Dean begins to move, fucking himself on Cas’s cock, sinking all the way down into his lap and Cas tugs at the hair at the back of his head, not forcefully but with purpose and Dean seems to like it, letting out a strangled sound every time he comes back down.

Cas can’t keep his hips still and tries to meet him halfway as good as possible but it’s not enough. Dean’s already a work of art, smooth edges everywhere, perfect skin, pure indulgence to watch but Cas is greedy. He wants it all. Now or never.

He hooks a hand under one of Dean’s thighs and holds him tight by the small of his back with the other, focusing all his strength into his own thighs and flips Dean onto his back.

Dean lets out a surprised “huh”, shudders, but then pulls up both his legs, dragging Cas into him deeper.

“You like that?” Cas asks smugly.

“Shut up and fuck me,” Dean says, dragging Cas face towards his into a deep kiss.

Cas does as he’s told and thrusts into him. He’s already really fucking close and he can’t hold back much longer.

He feels Dean’s hand reach between them and is glad Dean is starting to jerk off so Cas feels fine to let go now and drive into him, as hard as he dares without risking to hurt Dean.

Dean grunts, briefly, arching his back and his orgasm is immediately followed by Cas’s who buries his face between his Dean’s neck and the pillow.

Cas slips out and rolls to his side before he slumps onto Dean, trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean pants, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re a, you’re a… This was… I’m—I think it was about fucking time you got that out of you. You’ve been bottling up for too long.”

Cas laughs. He’s not exactly sure why. Probably the endorphins. And it’s true. He hasn’t orgasmed in quite a long while, not like this at least, and he’s had Dean running around the apartment, living here, being gorgeous and caring and the best fake husband one could wish for. Well, not so fake anymore, not tonight. Tonight this is real. Tonight they exchanged real kisses, had real sex and Cas is feeling all the real feelings.

He kisses Dean again and Dean kisses back.

They clean up quickly and then they go to sleep, together, Cas lying pressed against Dean’s side, both of them still naked and Cas never wants this night to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually going to add a rant at the end of this fic about how in my country (Austria) there still isn't real marriage equality after putting it into effect by the beginning of this year. BUT. I just read the news that as of today binational couples (with one partner being a citizen of a country that does not allow marriage equality) can actually get married here now. Finally.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter - aaahhh!!

Dean dreams of Cas above him, holding him in his strong arms, bringing him pleasure.

Sleep fades and he becomes aware of the soft pillow under him and the sheets that smell like Cas. _Cas._

Dean is lying on his stomach and half-hard, chasing his wonderful dream, slowly circling his hips and humping the mattress. He plays the memory of Cas seizing his thigh and flipping him over in his head, again and again. It was a real surprise and when Dean landed on his back, he could hardly breathe for a moment, disoriented from what had just happened. Cas was still there, inside him, and Dean pulled him closer between his thighs. He was so strong, his biceps framing his head.

Dean thinks about that other night, when Cas lifted him onto the piano. Cas could have fucked him right there—it would have been perfect. Everything Cas does is perfect. _He_ is perfect. And Dean is in love.

He’s awake now and reaches out to Cas’s side of the bed, only to find it empty. He rolls onto his side and opens his eyes to be sure. A quick check with his phone tells him that it’s past ten o’clock in the morning. Cas usually never sleeps this long, yet it would’ve been nice to wake up next to him.

Dean doesn’t bother to put any clothes on except for his underwear and leaves the bedroom. Cas is in the kitchen, pouring Earl Grey from the teapot into his favorite mug (it says “Gone Chopin” and has a colorful picture of the composer on it).

“Morning,” Dean murmurs into Cas’s hair as he closes his arms around him from behind. “Why did you leave?”

Cas doesn’t make a move. “Couldn’t sleep any longer,” he says.

“Mhm,” Dean says and lets his hands roam over Cas’s clothed chest. He’s wearing a T-shirt and gray sweatpants.

“Last night was….,” he resumes.

“Yeah,” Cas agrees hoarsely.

“You were great yesterday,” Dean says, “in everything you did. The concert and all that happened after, especially—” he hums against Cas’s neck, leaving a kiss there, then another.

“You were great, too,” Cas says, a bit stiffly though, and Dean isn’t sure if he’s only imaging it.

He slides his hands under Cas’s shirt, still kissing Cas’s neck and jaw, and Cas squirms in his arms, throwing back his head against Dean’s shoulder. Cas isn’t tense, not anymore. Dean probably imagined it after all. One hand slides onto the sweatpants, stopping at Cas’s crotch. Cas squirms again and spins around in Dean’s arms. His cheeks are flushed. He seems breathless…and upset.

“Hey,” Dean says, bringing one hand to his cheek and rubbing a thumb over it, “everything alright?”

Cas nods but Dean isn’t convinced and pulls him closer into a hug.

“You know what I haven’t told you yet,” Dean says, trying to get Cas’s thoughts off whatever he’s worrying about right now—his career, so Dean assumes. “I have a job, a new one. A real job that I can actually live on.”

Cas pulls back, looking at him. “What job?” he says.

“You remember Cain, right? He gave us the tour backstage once at Kauffman Center. I ran into him when I picked you up last week, we talked for a while and then he offered me a job. He and Pam know each other, so I guess she put in a good word for me, but I think I really made a good impression and I told him about the classes I’ve taken and how I’ve been fascinated in what he and his team do ever since I first met him and now I have a job there.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cas asks, slightly disappointed.

“I’m telling you now,” Dean says. “I didn’t want to distract you before your big day or make you feel like this was more important than your comeback.”

Cas takes a deep breath and wiggles out of his arms. He’s shaking. “Good,” he says, “that’s really good. I’m happy for you.” He lets out a weird laugh. “You’re finally independent from me. That’s what I wanted, right? That’s what we…that’s what you’ve been working towards.”

Dean frowns. “Um, yeah?”

“Billie will vouch for me,” Cas blurts out.

Dean takes a step back. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t need you anymore…to be able to stay in this country. Billie said she’ll vouch for me if the DSS are making trouble again.”

Dean’s heart stopped at _I don’t need you anymore._ This is why he’s here. This is why he’s been here all along—because Cas needed him. Dean completely forgot over everything that happened between them.

“And you have a job. You can stand on your own feet now,” Cas says. “That was the plan.”

“Last night was not part of your plan,” Dean says, clenching his jaw.

“No, it wasn’t,” Cas admits. “But I’m done now. I’m done _pretending.”_

The emphasis on the last word doesn’t go over Dean’s head. Clearly, Cas wants to be free of him. They’ve been doing this for months now and for Dean it’s become kind of natural but Cas, obviously, still has to put a lot of effort into their façade.

“Are you saying you want me to leave…now?” Dean presses forward.

“No,” Cas says, “I’m not throwing you out if that’s what you think. Of course you can stay until you’ve found a place, saved up some money.”

Dean won’t give up what they had so easily. Even if it means losing all his dignity, he’ll at least try to save this. “Cas,” he says.

Cas is breathing heavily.

“Then we don’t have to stop now, I don’t mind.” Maybe Cas will come around and realize that what they had is special and, maybe, he will love him back. Dean can’t even imagine what having to let go of him would be like.

Dean comes back close again, cautiously laying his arms around Cas’s shoulders. “We had a great time together, didn’t we? Just think about last night.”

Cas presses his eyes closed, like he’s fighting a fight of his own inside his head. He’s panting, then groaning. “No!” He shoves Dean away from him. “I can’t do this. I’m done,” he says, “I’m done pretending.” He starts looking around, then, “I need to get out of here.”

He pushes past Dean who fails in getting ahold of him and calm him down and on his way to the door Cas grabs his keys and, with a shatter, the door falls closed behind him, leaving Dean alone in the big apartment.

 

Last night was a mistake. Like the first time they have gotten too close. Cas should’ve known better. But he’s only human and he wanted Dean so much and Dean was willing to pretend it was more than sex between acquaintances, or friends maybe; sex between real husbands who love and adore each other and Cas was down to it because they could be real husbands if Dean would just want to.

Now, Dean can finally be free. There’s no need to pretend to be real husbands anymore because Dean can financially support himself and Cas has a job again. And it scares him. Dean might want their physical relationship to keep going and maybe even their friendship, but he’ll move on eventually and find someone else. Someone better.

Cas is starting to feel dizzy and needs to pull up the car.

How could he have been so stupid? There was nothing rational at all about asking a stranger to marry him. He isn’t usually like this. He thinks things through properly. But he was panicking. He was about to lose everything he’d built for himself. And now he’s going to lose so much more.

Cas is feeling like he can’t handle this on his own anymore. He needs someone to talk to but the only person he wants to talk to, who he always wants to talk to—who he actually _can_ talk to—is Dean. No-one else knows about this particular, complex situation he’s in.

The hair at his neck is standing upright, cold sweat dampens his hands when he realizes one other, very important thing: No-one else knows he committed a crime.

“Balthazar,” he says when the man in question opens the door, only dressed in boxer briefs and a red silk robe. Cas already regrets coming here.

“Castiel,” he says, amused, “to what do I owe the honor so early in the morning?”

“It’s almost noon,” Cas says. “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course, darling,” Balthazar says and makes room for him. “You look a little bit under the weather. What’s wrong?”

They sit on Balthazar’s sofa after Cas has been offered and denied some tea.

“I don’t know if I should tell you this,” Cas says.

“Well, you obviously came here for a reason,” Balthazar encourages him.

Cas nods slightly. He puts his folded hands into his lap and takes a deep breath.

“Can’t you put some clothes on before I start?” he asks Balt. “What I have to say is very serious.”

“He who is without fashion sin may cast the first stone,” Balthazar says with one raised eyebrow, his eyes meeting Cas’s scowl. “You left your apartment and drove all the way here in your sweatpants.”

Cas looks down into his lap. Oh, right.

He clears his throat. “Balt,” he says, “I made a terrible mistake.”

When he doesn’t clarify, Balthazar says, “Darling, if you want my advice, I’m afraid I need more specifics.”

Cas lets out a sigh. Balt is right. “It’s just…I don’t want you to get into trouble because I fucked up.”

“How could I get into trouble for something you did?”

Cas wriggles onto the cushion, dreading to finally speak the truth. He clenches his sweaty hands into fists before he resumes. “What I did wasn’t exactly legal.”

Balt slightly jumps on the sofa as he turns more towards him. “Castiel, what did you do?” he says, accentuating every word.

“Remember, after the Marv disaster, I was really scared about my future.”

“Your career had just hit rock-bottom,” Balt says.

“Yes. But the worst thing about this was that I was about to get deported.”

Balt puts a hand on his chest, above his heart. “Cas, why didn’t you talk to me? I could have helped you somehow.”

“It was my problem, not yours,” Cas says and Balt shakes his head. _Stupid boy,_ his kind eyes say.

“But you married Dean,” Balt says then.

“Yes, which magically fixed all of my problems, right.”

“So, where’s the crime to this?”

Cas bites his lip. “I lied to you,” he says, “about when I met Dean.”

Balt looks like he knows what’s coming but doesn’t interrupt him.

“The reason I haven’t told you about Dean before we got married is that—” He takes a moment to find his composure. “I hadn’t met Dean before that. Less than 24 hours had passed between us meeting at a bar and tying the knot.”

“I guess it wasn’t love at first sight and you didn’t decide to get a Vegas-style wedding because you were head over heels for each other,” Balthazar says.

“No,” Cas admits. “He was about to be homeless and I was about to get deported, so we made a deal.”

Balthazar shakes his head again. He appears to be thinking really hard, trying to fathom how Cas could get away with this.

“Why are you telling me this now?” he asks. “Why are you here? Something must have happened. You obviously weren’t arrested, so I guess your cover hasn’t been blown.”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Let me put the pieces together then,” Balthazar says. “I remember how surprised I was when you first introduced us to Dean. The whole story was so unlike you. But I had no reason to question it. And now, I still don’t. Last night you were the perfect couple. Dean was so anxious for you and such a proud husband. When you danced, you seemed to have forgotten about the rest of the world.” He pauses for effect. “You actually fell in love.”

“Yes,” Cas says.

“So what’s the issue? You’ll live happily ever after and no-one ever needs to know why you got married in the first place.”

“Balt, you don’t understand!” This came out involuntarily loud. “Dean doesn’t love me back.”

“Silly you,” Balthazar says, “of course he does.”

“He doesn’t. He’s just pretending to get me into bed with him.” _We were very convincing._ That’s what Dean said last night. To him, it was never about being real but about what others might think. The sex was just a nice bonus.

“Cas, listen to me.” Balt leans towards him. “I was with him yesterday while you were busy being great on stage. The boy is very much in love with you. He’s completely gone on you and I can’t understand how you don’t realize that.”

“He’s just pretending,” Cas insists.

“No-one could ever be this convincing in being in love. He only had eyes for you.”

Cas sighs, looking away.

“Cas, please stop being so stubborn about this kind of nonsense. Did he say he doesn’t love you? Did he say he doesn’t want to be with you? Did he say he wants a divorce?”

“No,” Cas says, lowering his head in embarrassment.

“Then go to him. _Talk_ to him, for goodness sake!”

“What if he rejects me?”

“He won’t. And if he’s idiot enough to do that, then at least you’ll know and can stop wasting your time.”

Cas doesn’t feel like he’s been wasting his time ever since he met Dean. He might have before, but every second spent with Dean is precious and Cas wouldn’t want to miss out.

Balthazar leads him to the door, basically pushes him out of the apartment, forcing him to go and be happy.

“Thank you for listening,” Cas says. “Promise me to never tell any living soul about this.”

“Our conversation never happened,” Balt says, winking. “But hey,” he adds, “I would’ve married you. You just needed to ask.”

“Thanks for the offer, Balt, but no. Also, I don’t think anyone would’ve bought it. Least of all Rowena.”

“Rejection, my old friend,” Balt says and chuckles as he speaks.

“Maybe I’ll text you later,” Cas says.

“Oh, you better do.”

They say goodbye and Cas drives back home, determined to tell Dean about his true feelings for him. On the way, he gets some Chinese food for them. Dean’ll be hungry and more likely to accept his apology with a full stomach.

The apartment is quiet when he locks the door behind him.

“Dean?” he says. No answer.

Instead of Dean he finds something else on the sideboard in the hallway. Dean’s ring. The one Cas gave him on their wedding day, that he slid onto his finger after saying ‘I do.’

“Dean!” he repeats, noticeably more panicked.

“Dean!” Cas looks everywhere but clearly Dean isn’t here. He left, because Cas said he wanted him gone. He didn’t really mean it, obviously. He thought that’s what Dean wanted to hear. That he’s been released from the cage called Green Card marriage.

This can’t be happening. It can’t be. Cas feels like the world is turning upside down, like the rug has been pulled from under his feet.

He rushes back to his room. Dean’s clothes are still there. Everything is. Except for Dean.

He tries to call him but Dean doesn’t pick up. He texts but there is no reply.

_Where are you?_

The take-out is getting cold but Cas isn’t hungry. He feels like he’ll never be able to eat again. Dean is gone and it’s all his fault. He’s ruined the best thing he’s ever had, even though a few months ago he was convinced that there’ll never be anything as important as his career.

An hour passes, then another. Dean doesn’t come home and Cas feels like he’s going insane. He sits on a bar stool at the kitchen counter and twirls Dean’s ring between his fingers, thinking of ways to fix this.

It’s half past four when, finally, Cas hears the key turning in the lock. Dean stops between main room and hallway, looking confused.

“Dean!” Cas says and springs from his seat. “Where’ve you been? I thought you’d left for good.”

“I was working,” Dean says.

“Working?”

“I was meant to start the day after tomorrow but Cain asked me to come in when no-one else is around to show me everything and learn a thing or two so I can properly get to work on Monday.”

“Cain asked you to….” Cas tries to make sense of Dean’s story.

“What about this?” he says and holds up the ring. “Do you want it to be over? Do you want to get a divorce?”

Dean gapes. “I—”

“Dean, I’m so sorry,” Cas interrupts Dean before he can actually say something. “I don’t want you to go. I want us to stay together. But if you don’t want that, too, then that’s okay. I mean, I probably won’t be okay for a while but you don’t have to worry about me. You’re the only one who can decide what to do with your life. Anyway, I was hoping…”

“Cas!” Dean says, although it clearly means, ‘shut up.’ “When did you start talking so much? You’re saying you want us to be together, as husbands, actual husband, have an actual relationship—did I get that right?”

“Yes,” Cas says. He doesn’t even dare to hope. His nerves are hanging on a very thin thread.

“Then why did you say everything you said this morning?”

“I thought…you said…you wanted to _pretend._ Like you needed to continue this sham even behind closed doors to be close to me. I’m not pretending, just so you know. My feelings for you are real.” Cas feels naked, vulnerable now that it’s out. Dean could crush him with his pinky finger if he wanted to.

Dean sighs. “And I thought you needed an excuse to kiss me.”

“I would kiss you anytime,” Cas says.

“I missed you. As soon as I woke up and realized you weren’t there, I wanted to find you and get you back in my arms and kiss you and forget how we even got into this marriage. I was hoping you’d ask me to never leave you again.”

“Dean, I love you! Of course I want you to never leave me again.”

Dean eyes sparkle. “Really?”

“Yes, Dean, I’m deeply, madly, helplessly in love with you.”

Dean darts forward to hold him tight. “I love you, too. I love you so, so much.”

Cas pulls back his head to look at him. “Then what about this?” he says, presenting the ring once more.

“I didn’t want it to get dirty or lost at work, so I took it off before I left,” Dean explains.

“You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I didn’t know you’re in love with me.”

“Well, now you do.”

“What are you saying?”

“Dean, will you continue to be my lawfully wedded husband, love me in sickness and in health—”

Dean silences him with a kiss. “Yes,” he breathes and holds out his hand for Cas to put the ring back on his finger where it belongs.

“I love you,” Cas says before kissing him again.

After a while, though, Cas withdraws and says, “Wait.”

“Did you change your mind already?” Dean says, only half-joking.

“I told Balthazar. About everything.”

Dean pulls back abruptly. “What? When?”

“Today, after I’d left.”

“Cas, why would you do that?”

“I’m sorry but I didn’t know who else to talk to. I panicked, okay?”

“What did he say?”

“That, obviously, you’re in love with me, too, and I should go and confess my feelings to you.”

“He isn’t gonna snitch, is he?”

“Of course not! You know Balthazar.”

“Fine,” Dean says, “you shall be forgiven.”

Cas’s stomach rumbles in response, evoking a laugh from Dean, and he suggests warming up the Chinese food.

Later, they continue to make out. They move from the living room to the bedroom, undressing very, very slowly, like they’ve got all the time in the world.

Cas gets Dean onto his back again. There’s no rush this time. Cas holds Dean’s hands above his head, languid kisses accompanying the steady motion of his hips as he glides in and out of him, almost lazily.

“I love you,” Cas whispers once again before he eventually finds the sweet mercy of his climax, spilling warmly into Dean. He slips out and lowers himself along Dean’s body, trembling with anticipation of what’s to come, to finish him with his mouth, tongue twirling along the head, sucking him in and listening to Dean’s choked sighs as he writhes beneath him, a hand reaching for Cas’s hair.

Dean kisses him again, hungrily, afterwards, chasing his own taste on Cas’s tongue.

This is the second night they sleep in each other’s arms, their naked bodies pressed together from head to toe, and they will sleep like this for many more nights to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had a good time - I definitely did, writing a fake relationship fic for the first time. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading and your lovely comments along the way! <3


End file.
